IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


^/^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


If  IIM  IIIIM 
1-4    ill  1.6 


V] 


<^ 


/A 


/a 


^m//     ^'    '"■•     <iv    ^/A 


'/ 


Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WIST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14S80 

(716)872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHJVI/ICJVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographicaily  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


D 


D 


D 
D 


D 


y 


D 


n 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 


I      I    Covers  damaged/ 


Couverture  endommag^e 


Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^  et/ou  peiliculie 


I      I    Cover  title  missing/ 


Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 


Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 


□    Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  reliure  serrde  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  ia  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajout6es 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  lorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  6t6  filmdes. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppldmantaires: 


L'Institut  a  microf  ilm6  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'ii  lui  a  At6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Ltts  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  methods  normale  de  f ilmage 
sont  indiqu6s  ci-dessous. 


I      I   Coloured  pages/ 


V 


0 


Pages  de  couleur 

Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endom  magmas 

Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaur6es  et/ou  pellicul6es 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  d6color6es,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  ddtachdes 


Showthrough/ 
Transparence 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  in^gale  de  I'impression 

includes  supplementary  matorial/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppldmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totaiement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6t^  filmies  i  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


Th< 
to 


Th( 
poi 
of 
filr 


Ori 
bei 
the 
sio 
oth 
fin 
sio 
or 


Th( 
shi 

Tir 

wh 

Ma 
dif 
ent 
be) 
rigl 
rec; 
me 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiime  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqu6  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

[" 

~^ 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


The  copy  filmad  here  has  been  reproduced  thank* 
to  the  generosity  off: 

Library  of  the  Public 
Archives  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  ffilm6  ffut  reproduit  grAce  h  la 
gAntrositA  de: 

La  bibliothdque  des  Archives 
publiques  du  Canada 


The  images  appeering  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  keeping  with  the 
filming  contract  specifications. 


Las  images  suivantes  ont  At6  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettet6  de  rexemplaire  film6.  et  en 
conformity  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 


Original  copies  in  printed  paper  covers  are  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  and  ending  on 
the  last  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, or  the  back  cover  when  appropriate.  All 
other  original  copies  are  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  page  with  a  printed  or  illustrated  impres- 
sion, and  ending  on  the  last  page  with  a  printed 
or  illustrated  impression. 


Les  exemplaires  originaux  dont  la  couverture  en 
papier  est  imprim6e  sont  fiimAs  en  commengant 
par  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminant  soit  par  la 
derniAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration,  soit  par  le  second 
plat,  salon  le  cas.  Tous  les  autres  exemplaires 
originaux  sont  filmAs  en  commen9ant  par  la 
premiAre  page  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminant  par 
la  dernlAre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ^  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED ").  or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"), 
whichever  applies. 


Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
derniire  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbols  —^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE  ".  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN". 


Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc..  may  be  filmed  at 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  are  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hand  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


Les  cartes,  planches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  dtre 
film6s  d  des  taux  de  reduction  diffirents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  dtre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  clijh6,  il  est  film6  d  partir 
de  Tangle  supirieur  gauche,  de  gauche  d  drolte, 
et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  nicessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
iilustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

SPORT  WITH  (iUN  AND  ROD 


•rn» 


I  -  f  y 


Nl::^:'  / 


SPORT 
WITH   GUN  AND  ROD 


r\ 


AMERICAN   WOODS   AND   WATERS 


KiiriKi)  ii\- 


ALFRHI)    M.  MAYHR 

I'li  I  ir  !■ --siiK    IS 

TIIK.     SI  I   VKN-     l\sl  III    I  l:     ,,,.       ,  K(n\l.|.,M,V 


NHW  YORK 
THE   CHNTURY    CO 


'  "pyrijihi,  isgj,  I,,.  i„,,  ,^„^,,  „,.  ,.„ 


I'niss  ,„     I,,,,,    r.  Hi    ViNM    Ji  to. 

XlW    Vo|,K. 


•   ♦      •      #       •   0      •    •  •       •   •      *     •  #  •   /      - 


Pki:  iwci.: 


r-fAiiK 


1 


love  ol"  ihc  ,  ha!,f  is  (kvpiy  iiiiliiMldrd 


till-  untold  (iiiiiiriis  ol  1 


II  mill's  niitiiri'.     During 


\\f  now  revert  to  our  priniitiv 


Ms  su.ij-e  (ondition  In  l'o||oui-d  it  of  ne<essit 


ro.ition,  pursiiiiij,'  with  ardor,  ^|)ort.s  wliii  h  ol't 

and  ;dv 

leads 


e  en)|iloynient  lor  our  pleasure  and  rci  ■ 


en 


ays  rei|iiire  skill  and  traininj,'.     An  inipuKi',  oil 


involvi'  nun  h   Ixiijilv  l'ati),'Ui 


man  away  from  t  iviii/ation,  I'mni  it 


en  irrosisiililc  it  soenis. 


iral  lile,  to  the  forests,  the  tield 


s  artitu  iai  pleasures  and  it 


dom  and  peaee  whii  h  i  ivili/.ation 


Is,  and  the  waters,  wlnre  h 


s  niei  han 


le  nia\  hi\w  that  Iret 


it  that  th 


denies  Inni. 


ir  ti 


e  man  of  alfn'rs  as  well  as  the  man  of  I 


ns  \k-  nm  so,  then  whv  is 


his  youth  as  he  hid 


s  r.irewell  to  his  olli( 


ol  the  \V( 


>ods 


eisure  feels  auain  the  jov  of 


I  e  or  Ins  <  lul 


and  the  plains 


II 


seeks  ihi'  solittid 


e  «ill  meet  iJieri-  some  old  laniiliar  i 


Kuide.  or  fellow-sportsman,  and  udeoine  it  with  the  ardor  of  ,r I.f, 


Me  will  undergo  all  sorts  of  hodil 


les 
111  e  in  a 
llowsh 


in. 


the  w 

in  oil 


el  ami  the  rold,~and  yet  lie  happ\,  I 


y  discomlorts. — (oaist'  ioo<| 


I  rough  hed. 


ur  words,  he  has,  for  the  ti 


me,  lie<'onie 


le.  ause  lor  a  liiile  spell  he  is  frei 


li/e<l 


^niil  rod,  hf  goes   into  the  re.  esses  of  the  gre.it    wood 


weeks  or  months,  or  inoiinis  his  horse  and  tr.i 
mouniain  passes,  relying  on  his  rille  for 


sa\agi'. 
s.  and  I 


!f. 


with  gun 


verses  the  wesieiii   plains 


ives   there    for 


and 


that   iher 


Ills  sulisistem  e. 


■e  are  many  things  to  I.e  le.iriie<l  outsid 


usual  Ol  lupatioiis.      IK 


e  cil   I  iiK 


lUIUlIU 


'oinpanions;   he  wil 


vill  find  food    lor  philosoplu  in   the   hel 


lie  Is  made  lo  realize 
s  and  a»av  from  his 


lavior  of  his 


-•ee  tt  ho  is 


manly  and   unselfish,  who  endowed 


iree    Hi 


«ith    phuk    ami    self  reliaii.  e :    for    t 

i"   ll'e  wil.lerness  will  reveal   more  of  his   rearrhann'terih.n,  a'il 

Willi    him   amid   the  sal 

He  will 


le    retreats    a 


nd 


ili/ 


earn  how  Uw  .ire  the  red  wants  of  a  ha| 


soiiaiioii    with    a    friend 

o/eii    \ ears' 

soothing    comforts    of   (ivili/ed     life. 


nature.      His  trouMes.  if  h 


seem  uf  as  little  value  lo  hi 


e  (arried  anv  with  him.  w 


ami  "honest  ang'er 
contented  mind. 


as  to  the  savage,  and  like  all 


<\  life  in  ihe  midst  of  iimiv- 
ill  \  aiiisli  :   time  will 


he  will  return  to  his  home  with  a  .alineil 


true  sportsmen 


si'irit    ind 


12 


Pirfaci 


\Vf  shall  ha\ 


rcails  it.  fculs  liis  lungs  cxi 


X'  atlaiiicd  our  object  in   this  hook,  if  tl 


)an(l  \vi 


hears  th 


ith  the 


K  sudden  whirrrof  the  rutted  !'r< 


")ol,  halsani-laden  air  of  tl 


I'  sportsman,  as  he 


le  woods 


lis  nerves  [,'n)\\  tense  as  In 


)iise  on  the  mountain-side,  and  feel 


th, 


idco(  k 


aL;ain  stands  over  his 


lion    he   mak(. 
he  hears  th 


or  sni|)e;   hear',  the  breaker 


s  on  the  I 


a    I, 


',  and  is  about  to  flush 
ocky  coast,  as  in  iniaLrina- 


>K  "cast"  into  tlie    surf;  smells  t|- 


perusal,  also,  the  v 


c  cries  of  the  wild  fowl  and  the  whistle  of  th 


c  salt   marches,  whik 


ic  diK  ks'  wini 


ounKer  reader  may  be  led  to  si)end  his  va(at 


enjoyment  of  sports  which  are  manly  and  he:ilth--ivi 


ions  I 


liy  Its 
n   the 


reliaiii  e  ai 


IlL'.  wliK 


id  Kooil-fellousliip,  and  develop  a  love  f  ,r  Nature. 


eni'ender  sel 


M>  connei  lion  with  this  volu 


Liesled  to  the  editor  of  'I'iik  ("km 
liimiing  and  an-lii 


me  was  unexpected.      Some  I 


inie  ago  I  s 


■111 


\vs  Willi  n   h.K 


leited  into  a   book.     At  the  time   I   made  tins  sugi 
lion  or  desire  to  umlertake  the  editing  of  uritin-s'""! 


I  KV  Mai;  m\v.  that  th 
I'l'L'ared  in   ihat  periodical  should  be  col 


le  various  artides  on 


IIS  suggestion,  1    I 


.game,  so  varied   in  habils  and 
to   have    had    the    reiiiiisite 


liaimts  that  no  one  |)erson  < ould 


liail  no  inten- 
Icsi  ribing  the  pursuit  of 


<pccted 


of  the   publishers  that   I   undertook  th 
several  papers  have  been  adde 


experience,   and    it  was   only  at    the   solicitat 


le  task.    To  make  tl 


ion 


llK 


time. 


d,  some  of  which 


IC  work  complete, 
re  here  printed  for  the  first 


In   behalf  of  the  publishers.   I  ui 


<  ourtesv  of   Ki 


.\I. 


isl)   to  acknowledge  indebted 
;an    Paul  \-    Co..  ,,f  |,,,!„lon,  for  tl 


lless 


oose-l-lunting  in  Canada.  h\  the  ll.-rl  of  I) 


le   use   of  the 


to  thi 


pai:er  on 


■.V   Co..   fw   the   arti.k 


Hurro 
bv  .M 


is;    lo   <'harles    .Sci 


riluited    by   Charles    I) 


unraveii;  to  Houghton.  .\Iifil 


udk 


V   W 


;irner  and 


in 
)hn 


loners    .Soib 


lor 


same  author 


nirice  'riiompson.  and  to  Janies  R.  Osgood  \-  C,,.,  f 


e    pajier    on    Mow-Shooting 


■  the  poem  b\  the 


M.M'l.tWOoU, 


Al.FRKI)   M.  .M.WKK 


M^ 


JAPAN    PROOFS. 


riTI.Fs. 

In   iiii;   Wdoiis 


»  luiLtrnvfl  ilircct  ( 
ii     from  Nature      ) 


Hi:ai,  or  ^[^  i  i;-I)i.r.i<         f.  Harrison  Mills 

Hi.Mi  (i|    Faw.v  of  ^ 

Mn.K-Di  i,k         «  ^^-  •'^'-  f'^iry 

1 1 1. All    ol-     Ro(  KV  # 


Hkap   oi     .\[(SK-()x 

lir.AcK  ISass      j 

"  Muoki',  Aw  Av  "  i 

'I'lIK   Mu  HKJAN  [ 

(!ravi.i\(;       j 

Hon   UiiiiKs  J 
—At   Dawn  ) 

A  ( iuol  SI,   I'willA 

Ar  SiNsr.T 


Soinil  A.MKRK  AN  \ 
'ioAI'-srcKI.K        »' 


James  C.  Heard 
(airdon  ■riiimliiill 

James  C.  Heard 

James  C.  Heard 

James  C.  Heard 

(  I'.n,u'ra\ed  diiect  ♦ 
i     Irom  Nature      ♦ 

lames  ('.  Heard 


Kibridge  Kingsley     I'n.inisi.iece. 


I.  Harrison  Mills     •  ^'i.-'iK-ttf  on 
♦  Title. 


R.  A.  Miiller 

r'acinu    46 

R.  A.  .Miiller 

2S0 

J.  H.  K.  Whim 

ey 

'•      3'4 

1 1.  l)aviilson 

"      334 

I-.  S.  King 

"      494 

R.  V.  Collins 

'•      C 1  2 

F.  S.  King 

"      646 

Klbridge  Kingsl 

ey 

••       79« 

I'rank    I'rem  li 

"      ^36 

i 


iaLL-PA(;H    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


J, So 
3'4 
334 


I'm;  ("ami>  on  tiii.;  ^ 

Shdkk  f       .Mary  Ilallock  Foote 

Hawk  on   Nkst  I'annie  K.  Clifford 

Indian-   Himkk  J.  ().  ,\.  Ward 

'Iiii;  Black  I!i;\r  .<  Charles  C.  Ward  j 

{  James   C.    Heartl  J 

A  iMEKT  AT  Xkwpokt      Ceorire  Inness,  fr. 

I'm;  A.MKRicAN  liisHN  James  f.  Heard 
A  MnoM.;  Im,;iii  Henry  Sandham 

In  \Wi;sri;RN  {'(irkst  Julian   Rix 

Hkai.oi    Mkkin,)  Ram  James  C.  Heard 

IlKAh  oi    MisK-Cow  James  C.  Heard 

J ai'Ankh;  KiNcivo  James  C.  Heard 

I'm;  Pki)i.i;sn(ik      ♦  ,   t 

I.ANDINi;  A    Ihillil.l.;  J        .'•   "■  <^'<Jf:l<'^ 
I'AKAI.I.Ki  ISM    LV  ^ 

Fi.MiiiT  (.1-  HiKi.s  ANr.f  lames  C.  Heard 
SuiMMiNi;  (11-  {•rsii      \ 

OlTUAUIl   i!,,lN|,  Ml.    |.„,„^ 

''''^^■'    '•^"«'-  M.J.  HiM-ns 

Oil'  Mill -Wh,.;,.;,.  Charles  A.  Wmderhoof 

A  HiAi  M  Sn  i.v  James  f.  Heard 


ks(;ravkks. 

I'Ar.KS. 

J.  Hellawell 

>3 

E.  Heinemann 

28 

l>aviil  Nichols 

44 

Henry  N'arley 

Facing  50 

^y.  }.  Dana 

100 

H.  K.  Schultz 

Facing  116 

'I'.  Cole 

"       '36 

Charles  Ciillen 

256 

J.  H.  !•;.  Whitney 

Facing  284 

Samuel    I'.  Davis 

318 

!•'.  S.  Kinji 

332 

II.  D.uidson 

l-'acing  386 

1'.  S.  Rir.iT 

395 

John  Kvar 

400 

[ohn  l-'.\ans 

l'a(  nur   1 1  1 

Annie  I,.  Haywood  448 

Henry  Marsh  ^^ 


i 


i6 


I 'II II-  Page  Illiistrntioiis 


TITI.K';. 
A     I'llKI'dlSK     1)1VIN( 

\KAK    N  I.WI'dK'l' 

A  I   I,(!\v  'I'liii; 
Snow   li!Nii\c,s 

I'.lKnl'i: AN  (IkW    \ 
I'AklKIIMlKs         i 


S  I'liarlcs  C.  Ward  ( 
(  Dan  licard  t 

Henry  Sandhani 

Sieplicn  I'arrish 

Fidelia  Bridges 

James  ('.  Heard 


\\'(Kiii(()(  K  AM' \'()i;\(;     James  ('.  Heard 
lames  C.  Heard 


A  \\"  I  ISDN's  S\ii'(.,  \ 
l'A\rii,v  \ 


>[a1  l;  AN1>    I'KMAI.I.  \ 

Kam,  ♦ 

( >l't  111'  Dm  Iks 
A  Hiuh  N[i;iii,i  V 


James  C.  Heard 

Rosier  RioKlan 
Fi<lelia  nrid},'es 


BMiRAVRRs. 

PAnFS. 

Klliridge  Kingsliv 

I'aeinii  4.S2 

R.  C.  Collins 

540 

F.lliridj,'e   Kin^'sley 

57-' 

F.  S.  Kinj; 

610 

J.  H.  i:.  Whitney 

Facing  664 

Samuil  1'.  D.ivis 

••      686 

Henry  Marsh 

••      6(/. 

J.  H.  K.  Whitney 

Henry  Marsh 
F.  S.  King 


"  75^ 
796 
880 


!• 

■icinii 

482 
540 

610 

!• 

aciiig 

664 

686 
696 

"      75-' 
796 

880 


TABLE   OF    CONTENTS. 

Pkkkack  ...  ''^"''- 
n 

List  ok  Jakw   Prooks  . 

'4 

List  ok  rui.i,-I>A<;K  Ir.i.usTKATioxs '.   .   .  . 

Thk  Prkm.stok.c   IhxTKK Alfred  M.  Mayer.     20 

Illustrations :  Axe,  Spear-hend,  and  Knife  of  Arch.Tolithic  ^  ^ 

age  — Skeleton  of  the  (Ireat  Irish  Klk  — Arrowhead 
from  Killarney  — Spear-head  and  Arrowhead  found 
near  l'ont-I,ero>— Fish-spear,  Rents'  (.-avern- 
Harpoun-Point  of  hone  and  nephrite- I'rehistori. 
tarvnig  on  Ivory- Fjsh-spears.  F.a  Madelaine- 
Arrowhead  from  Lake  Bienne— Tail-piece 


J^aJT,  LARGi:    C.AMK. 

TiiK  Black  Bkar  ....  //,..,/     n   ,i^     , 

,„    ,     .         ,  Lliarles  C.  fVard.     ±q 

Illustrations,   from    sket.  hes    l.v   the   autlu.r:     Hea.l    of  ^^ 

Skull    of   HIack   Bear -Kore-paws- Hind-paws-  V 

Dead-fall   Trap /•//.-„-. 

The  Indian,  from  a  sketch  l.y  the  author /p  7;,^,,,,. 

Sacking   a    Lumber   c:amp,    from    a    sketch    by    the 

author 

A't^'^'T^"  ^'"''""'  ""'"—■'-'■piece ; ; : :  /i^^^Zi 

A  feast  on  a  Log  ...  ,.         „ 

'^  i\'^{i,r/-  RiorJan. 


i8 


Contents. 


Bear-hunting  in  the  South James  Gordon, 

Illustrations,  from  sketches  by  the  author :  Old  Asa 
Cutting  thro-.:i;h  the  c;anebrake  —  Bear  Hieroglyphics 
—  At  Bay  —  The  Death  — Old  Asa  in  Triumph    .    .    .  W.  I..  Shippard. 

In  the  Forest Gninville  Pakins. 

A  Flight  of  Wild  (leese  (Two  engravings) Mimes  C.  Beard, 

A  Hunter's  Paradise Thomas  Moran, 

Tail-jjiece F.  S.  Church, 


I'AGC 

65 


Fox-HL'NTiNC.  IN  New  Enclank  ....  Roiohiud  E,  Robinson. 

Illustrations,  from  sketches  by  the  author :  Head- 
piece   Z.  Hopkins. 

"An  Honest  Fox  Must  l.ivi" James  C.  Beard. 

After  a  Breakfast — "Holed" — Tantalizing  the  Dogs  .    .John  W.  Bolles. 

i'he  Dog's  Dream  —  The  Start — On  the  Trail — The 
Run-way Alfred  Kappes. 

Calling  the  Dogs Walter  Shirlaw. 

Another  Stratagem Peter  Moran. 

Bearing  Home  the  Brush lames  E.  Kelly. 

A  Happy  Family — Head  of  Fox-hound — To  Destroy 

the  Scent Rowland  E.  Robinson. 

In  November Jen'is  McEntce. 

Tail-piece Ifenry  Farrer. 


79 


I: 


A  BuKKAi.o-HUNT  IN  NORTHERN  Mexico    ....  Lcw  Wallace.   101 

Illustrations,  from  sketches  by  the  author :  The  School  of 

the  l.ariat — Now,  F'ire  1 — rail-])iece Ia,nes  E.  Kelly. 

'llie"Mozo"* \V.  L.  Sheppard. 

The   I'atio,  from  a  sketch  by  the  author fohn   W.  Bolles. 

The  Start  —  Our  First  View  of  the   Herd Geori;^  Inness,  Jr. 

On  the  Road  —  Juan  —  Santos — In  the  Rear  Court  — 
"  Under  the  Colonnade" — In  the  Corridor — A  Croup 
of  Vaipieros  —  .\  Maguey  Field JA/rr  llalhck  Foote. 

Head  of  .Vmerican  Buffalo lames  C.  Beard. 

The    Tangle  of  i'aths Leic  Wallace, 

The  North  American  Cervid.k  .  .  .  .  George  Bird  Grinncll.    129 

Illustrations :    A   Moose  Fight Henry  Sandham. 

Barren-ground  Caribou Charles  C.  Ward. 

Head  of  American  Klk  —  Head  of  Mule -Deer  .        fames  C.  Beard. 

Tail-piece Ro^er  Riordan. 


Contents. 

Moose- HUNTING Charles  C.   IVard. 

Illustrations,  from  sketches  by  the  author ;  Riding  down  a 

'I'ree — Moose  Family  —  Moose-yanl — Kire  Hunting  .    .  HeKry  Sijiii/htjtii. 

riie  Moose-call Jtimcs  E.  Krlly. 

Moose -Hirds lames  C.  licit nl. 

Socotonia — Still  Hunting — A  Moose-hunter's  Camp  — 

'I'he  Old  Block- House — Stone  Medallion CharUs  C   Ward. 

Jay  and  Cedar  Hirds Fiihlia  Bridi^is. 

The  Darkening  Pines.  Kngraved  direct  from  nature  .  .  F./brhlf^e  Kin^slex. 
Returning  from  the  Hunt J/tnn  Saiii/ham. 


19 

PAOE 

•54 


MoosK-iiiNTiNc   IN  Canada Earl  of  Diinravcn.    182 

Illustration:  Tail-itiecx-.    I'.ngraved  direct  from  nature  .    .    .  I'lllmdi^c  Ki)ii:;slr\. 


CARiitou-iUNriNi; Charles  C.   Ward.   20S 

Illustrations,    from    sketches    l)y    tiie    author:    Cariliou 

liarreiis  —  Caribou  Crossing  a  I'rozcn  Lake T/ioiiuts  MiTan, 

Attacked  by  a  Wolf — Allo;it  on  a  Cake  of  Ice  —  Uriiig 

ing  in  the  C'aribou  —  A  (lood  Chance llriiiy  .SaiiJ/iani. 

Woodland  Caribou  Hoofs — Carii)ou  Migrating — I'or- 

est  Hirds  —  Seli-ta-ga-bo — A  Shot  from  Tomah  ....  Charles  C.  liar,/. 

Cedar  Hirds l-'/i/i-//,/  liriili^ts. 


DKKk-iii  xriNc.  ON    Tin;  .\i    S.viur. ]]'.  Mackay  Laffaii. 

Illustrations:  \j\i  Saginaw  Hay — Camp  l'>\vin  —  On 
tlie  \\\  Sable — Deception — Cnder  the  Cedars — 
Hung   Cp  —  .V  (leneral  Surprise — .\  Torcji  of  the 

Au  Sable — Sweepers — \  Ton  and  a  half  of  \'enison  .  //'.  .\fack'ay  Laffaii. 
.\    l.umber-slcd Sol.  Eyliiii:;!', 


'■l^ 


HiNTiNc  TiiK   Mi'i.i:-I)i;i;k   in   Coi.oradd  .   '/.  Harrison  Mills. 
Illustrations:    from  a  sketch  by  the  author,  "  .\nil  Tiny 

Said  he  Thought  he  ("ould  " Frcdcrkk  DUlnian. 

The  Fall  of  the  Leader,  from  a  sketch  by  the  author  .    .    .  Geor/^i-  /////ess,  Jr. 
Head  of  the  Mule-Deer — ".\re  you  Looking  for  us  ?  " 

—  .An  Attack  of  Buck  Fever — Osborne  and  his  Dog 

—  How  Tiny  Beguiled  them  —  .\  Pattern  in  a  Net 

of  Twigs — A  Dissolving  View J.  Harrison  Mills. 

On  the  Orand Thomas  Moraii. 

Tail-piece Julian  Rix. 


•D/ 


20  Contents. 

TuK  Wii.i)  SiiKEi'  OK  THK  SiKRRA John  Muir.  280 

Illustrations,  after  skett  hes  by  the  author:  Head  of 
Rocky  Mountain  Wild  Sheei)— Ik-ad  of  thi;  Merino 
Ram  (Domestic)  The   Water-ousel fames  C.  Bear  J. 

A  Feeding.ground //„^,  ^,.„„ 

Snow-Bound  on  Mount  Shasta — Junipinn  overa  I'rec  i- 

pice— Indians  Hunting  Wild  Shee|i hhi  W.  Hoiks. 

Williamson   Spruce    Tree A".  .Suhuh  Giffor.l. 

In  a  Sierra  Forest Thomas  Mora,,. 

t:rossmg  a  Canon  Stream ^v^^,^  /,,„^„^  j^ 

Thk  Antki.oi'I.. licoigc  Bird  Grinnell.  303 

'l''^''-''"-'^'-' George  Gibso,,. 

A   MisK-Ox  Hunt Frederick  Schwatka.  313 

Illustrations:   Head  of  Musk-()x_lkad  of  Musk-Cow  .    .    .  Ja,„es  C.  Bear,/. 
From  sketches  by  the  author:   I'arseneuk  in  a    Tight 

Place-on  the  Trail- At  bay Ueorge /„„ess,  Jr. 

An  Lsiiuinio  Cami) ,1^  «.  , , .      , 


FISH, 


The  Pkimitivk  Fish-hook Barnet  Phillips. 

Illustrations:    Stone    Fish-gorge — Bricole   (two  cuts) — 

Double     Hook  —  Prehistoric     l-orms  —  Sharpened 

Needle     used    in     France — Bronze    F'ish-hooks — 

Double     Hook,     barbed — Alaskan      Halibut-hook 

(two   cuts) — Russian    F'ish-hook — Artificial    Stone 

Shrimp Henry  W.  TVoy. 

An   Alaskan    Fish-hook Fra„cis  Lathrop. 

Shell-hooks  (five  cuts). 

Tail-piece Z.  Hopkins. 


ill 


Contents, 

TROi'.T-Fi.siiiNti   IN  nil.  I<\N(;i;i.KV  \.\\^v.s  .  .  luhvard  Siymonr 

Illustrations;   The  Jiim  tion  of  Ranj,'clev  and  Kennolmno 

—  Alkrton   Lod^f  —  Stony   Hatfc-r — I'lelt  Rork  .    . 

('amp  Kcnnebiij^o — r|)])cr  l)am 

The  Interior  of  tilt  (amp —  I'dling  Kish-storics  .    .    . 
Kxpfrimtnt  in  Natural  I'liilosophy  —  Catihinna  I'ivf- 

pouniler  —  S|)iritof  Mooseliii  niaguntic  — •'  Matchinj;" 

a  Sfvcn-iiouiid    I'rout  —  Itrcakinj,'  Cam) 

Head   of    Trout /./•'.  Rhii:^!-. 

Thu  Damon  Ranni-k-v  Sinam       //'.//.  Giliuni. 

rhu  Nut    Result A'f'V.v  Rioniiiii. 

Lakes   and    Mead   Waters  of  the    .\ndrosconj;in   .ind 

Kenneliei  —  llii    |a<et. 


31 

35« 


.    .   'I'homas  Monin. 

A*.  Siiyci: 

L'htulfs  S.  Rfinluirt. 


W.  /..  Shiff>,ttif. 


lilMK    li\ss    l-"l.siilN(, yiiiiics  .1.  lli'iisliall. 

Illustrations:      Large -nHiuihed      llUuk      Hass  —  Small- 
mouthed   Hhirk   Mass A'.  A'.  Co/'i/iiiii/. 

Near  the   Rivir Tlionias  Moniii. 

Luke lo.u'f>li  Pi-iiii,ll. 

The    I'rofessor   Landing'   a    DouMe  —  An   Ideal   "Still 
I'isher" /.  //.  i'oiki. 


;>79 


In  nii;  Hai  n  is  <'i  Uukam  and  Bass  (I'oeini .  Maurice  I'hompsou.   396 


S\i.\1()N-1msiii.\(; /.  (i.  ll'i/kiiisou.   401 

Illustrations:  On  the  (lodhoul  —  I  he  Restij^ouche  anil 
Matai)edia<;  Rivers  — \alley  of  the  Matajiediac —  In 
liie  Harbor  of  St.  John  —  A  Canadian  Kishing  River 

—  (Juel)ei'  from  the   River — A  Memory  of  (Quebec 

—  A   Half-breed   Netting  Salmon  —  River  (raft  on 

the  St.  Lawrence //,)iry  Saiulham. 

Scotch  Poacher  —  (lalhngat  Hig  Salmon  Hole —  The 
Philosophical  .\ngler — Our  I'.nglish  Friend —  The 
Strategic  .Angler — My  lir>t  Salmcm  —  The  Patient  . 
.•\ngler  —  An  Irate  .Vngler  —  The  Countess  of  Duf- 
ferin  Pool  —  Part  of  the  Fun  —  Kcpial  to  the  F.mer- 
gency — "  .\  Little  o' yer   My-ile" — Late  to  Dinner 

—  One  Way  Fish  are  Lost //■./..  S/ii-/<pttni. 

Perce    Rock,    South    of  Ca.spe    Hasin — Falls    at    the 

Narrows  of  York   Ri\-er Thonuts  Moran. 

Pen  e    Rock I/.  ./.  Burns. 

Misfortune Michael  Wool/. 

2  A 


wm 


22  Contents, 

I  he  t!am|)  at  Night Will  /f.  Low.^ 

Sparrows FiJelui  linJj:,es. 

"Fifty  Cents  a  HiindrL-il" lanus  C.  Heard, 

Ihe  Rise \V,ill,-r  M.  linukiU, 

Canadian  Salnidii  Kivcrs  and  (iasjn'  liasin. 


I'AOB 


SiKii'KK   li.vss Francis  Endicott.  449 

Illustrations:    (iosnoid's    Island,    Cutiyhunk /.  //,  Cocks. 

riie   Clubhouse  and    Stands C/uv/is  .7.  Wiiukp'hoof. 

On    the    Island TIioiims  Moran, 

On  the  Way  to  the  Stands — The  l.ight-house  ;it  day 

Head Tohn  \\\  Hoiks. 

Fishing   from  the    Stands //'  'laber. 

Hack  from  the  Heach — Tail-piece F.  S.  Church, 

Along  the  Cliff — On  the  Heach  —  Along  Shore  .    .    .    .  R.  Swain  Gifford, 

Indian    Head iug.  Will, 

Ihe  Kdge  of  the  Cliflfs Charles  S.  Reiiiliart. 

Crab Ro):^cr  Riordaii, 

Hasket    I'ish fames  C.  Beard. 

Montauk   Light Walter  I\iris, 

Montauk  (two  cuts) /'".  Ifopkinsoti  Smith, 

A  Ciood  Catch  —  Striped  Bass  or  Rock  Fisii —  Fish- 
ing A.  I).  1496. 


PoRi'oisK-siiooTiNt: Charles  C,  Ward.  473 

Illustrations:    Cape    Hlomidon — Cape   Split Ueiiry  Saiidham, 

Sehatis  Beaching  the  Canoe — The  Camp  at  Indian 
Beach  —  Trying  out  IJluliber  —  Spearing  a  Porpoise 
— Taking  a  Porpoise  Aboard  —  Shooting  a  I'or|)oise 
—  Sebatis  Adrift M.  J.  Bums, 

A  Porpoise  Diving,  from  a  sketch  b\-  the  author Diin  Beard. 

On  the  Way  to  the  Eddies (Jeori^e  If.  Ethiujrds. 

Tail  pieie    .    .    .    .  _ R.  Sccai/i  Gifford, 

TiiK  MiciiicAN   (iuAVi.iNC Tliaddcus  Norris.  493 

Illustrations:  The   Michigan  (Irayling fames  C.  Beard. 

View  on  the  Manistee Thomas  Aforaii. 

On  the  Manistee  —  Sweepers  in  the  Manistee  .    .    .    .  W.  Afackay  Loffan, 
Tail-jiiece.     Kngraved  direct  from  nature filhridge  Kingslty. 


Contents, 

Sea-trout  Fishing A.  K.  Macdonough. 

Illustrations;  'I'umiin;  a  Rapid — Making  a  Portage  — 

Thf    Lake    Camp— A     I'ool—  The    Outlet  —  Tail- 
piece      //'./..  Slif/ifiard. 

Long  Sault   Ra|ii(ls Hiiiry  Sandliain. 

I'adfiling Will  II.  I.vw. 

Our  Skipjjer William  Af.  Cliasf. 

Homeward    lluund A'.  Switiii  Clifford. 

The  CAistom-house,  (Quebec /".  llii[>kiiison  Smith. 

Map  of  Some  Sea-trout  Waters  —  Running  the  Lachine 
Rapids — Kn  Route  —  (lay  Hank  and  Rapids  — 
Cleaning  for  a  (amp  —  The  Home  Cami)  —  (letting 
Ready  for  Breakfast  —  Running  a  Rapid. 


23 

PAOR 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada John  Ihtrrouglis. 

Illustrations:    On    the   St.   I>awrence  —  The    tjtadel    at 

(Juel)ec  —  A  Caleche  —  A  Canadian  Interior  ....   Iliiiiy  SiXmlham. 

Hawk  and  Kingbird •  luviinf  !•'..  Gifforil. 

On  the  Way  to  the   River  —  Along  the  Hudson  .    .    .  Afary  lliillock  Fook. 
Lake  Memphremafiog —  In  the  Thousand  Islands. 


541 


Amonc.  tiik  Thousand  Islands Hirn'ord  Pylc.   573 

Illustrations;    Kagle's    Head Fnvik  Ji.  Mayer. 

Inlet  to  the  Lake —  Head  of  Oeek  and  Iron  Sjiring  .    .    .  Thomas  Moraii. 

Flowers  from  Iron  Sj^ring lltUita  dc  Ka\. 

The  Devil's  Oven  —  Dock  where  the  Steamer  /{>•/ was 

Burned J/tiiry  Fariiy. 

Oeneral    View   from    Bluff   Island  —  River  Craft — A 

Fishing  Party — Bonnie  Castle f.  O.  l)a-ridson. 

Ruins  of  the  Old  F'ort  —  Camping  Out —  Cooking  a 

Cam])  Dinner — Catching  a  Muskalonge — Spearing 

Kels  in   Eel    Bay Howard  Pyk. 

T..     c           li               u  ^  U'illiam  Mitchell.    SQ7 

I  Hi;  Sim. IT  liAMHoo  Rod I  ^^' 

(  Laurence  D.  Alexander.  601 
On  the  Invention  ok   the  Reki Alfred  M.  Mayer.  603 


Relation  Between  the  Weight  and  Length 

of  Brook-trout W.  Hodgson  Ellis.  605 


a4 


Contents, 


hi^    

PAOB 

Sdmk  Amkrican  Spoutinc,  nf>c;s    ,  .   ,   .William  M.   Tili's/oit.  615 

IllustrUidUM     Cri-yhoiiiiil— DccT-lioiiml {hholt  II.  Tluiyn. 

I  he   Mwi  ;il  tlic  ••  Harp  and  I'.ajjU- " /.  llon/swort/i  Thom[>u>ii. 

Raliliii-himtiMf,'  wilh  lU-anlcs /,/////  //'.  liolUs. 

Kox  lumtinn  in  tin-  South U.I..  S/i</'/>iiri/. 

Rc-<1   Irish  Sitter— lUatk  and- Whiii'  Stttir — (lorditn 

Soittr — lli-adol' I'ointcr — ULuk-an<l-Whiii;  Poinur 

—  l-ivrraiid-Whiti'    I'ointir  —  CnrkiT     Sjianicls  — 

Irish  \VatiM-s|ianiil /.  /•;  liiiii,i;i\ 

Rftricvinn J.  S.  Diiris. 

Urtakinn  Ndiiiif,'   Dn^s  —  I  )(>\vn   Chargf lames  C.  Hiniil. 

Tail-iiii-cc riuotioir  Hohiiisoit. 

Pointers    of    I'ifty    years   a^o —  I'Idward    l.averaik  — 

(iround    I'lan,    I'ront    Kicvation.  and  Side    \'ie«    ol" 

Kennel. 


NoKTM  Amkkk w   (iumsi Cluirlcs  li.   W'hiUlicad.   639 

IlUistratioris :    (Iroiise   in    I'ield — I'liishinti   a    Covey  ol' 

riiniated  (Iroiise hiiUlia  lini/i;,s. 

The  l)riiinniini,'-lon — A  (irouse  I'aiuily  —  Making 
themselves  at  Home  —  The  Fifteenth  of  August  on 
the  I'rairie  —  (;rr)Useon  Nest —  Tail-piece Iiiuits  C.  lidird. 

Ai>rilf()ol         Alfffil  Ka/'pts. 

A  Twitrh-U]) —  The  Coyote  Hunting Joliii  II'.  Holies. 

Across  the  Path SdI.  Eyliti^e. 

A    Prairie    Minuet //.  //:  ilmick. 

The  (lillie   Itov lames  E.  Kellx. 


Boil  VViiiTK,  TiiK  Game  Hird  ok  Amkkica.  .  Alfred M.  Mayer.  663 

Illustrations:  Kuropean  (Iray  Partridges — "Bob  White!" 
—  White  Boh  White  —  California  \'alley  Partridge 
or  Quail — Boh  White  and  Kuropean  Quail — Mrs. 
Bob  White  and  Family  —  F'uropean  Red-legged 
Partridges lames  C.  Beard. 


Con  feu  fs.  25 

I'AtiK 

Steady,  there!    To-ho  I /''.  Tnhfr. 

|;iil  |)ie<i' .'.//'.  Pr.ay. 

Il<il>  While  Kgg  (from  the  collection  ul  II.  II,  ll.iiley). 

Till.   .\mi:ui<  .\N   W'niijMiKK Inoii^c  liini  (lyiinnU,   685 

llhiNtntiiiDs :    WdodcDil    ami   Yniin^' lamii  I',  /inui/, 

l-'.^f^  III' WoodccK  k  iiriiin  thi.'  1  ollci  lion  ul  II.  It.  Itailey). 
SMn->iiiHii  INC deorj^t'  /iinf  (iriuni'/L  695 

illiistratiiins :    .\    Wilsnn's   Sni|)i'   I'.imily /iinii-s  C  Hiiiui. 

IIkK  "'  ^Vilsoii's  Siiipi'  (trom  tlic   1  ollcction  nt'  II.  I!, 
U.iilf>). 


I''ii.i.i»  .Si'iiuis  i\  MiwKSoiA Charhs  .1 .  /iiiiiin  rimtii.    705 

lllustratidiis.  from  .skcU  lies  liy  the  author:  A  I'luso  Shot  — 
.\  Side  Shot  —  Konded  (loods  in  Traiisii  —  .\  '•  Hoiid  " 
in    Wet   Weather  —  .\    Cold    Morninj,' —  Tlie    llridne 

St:in(l  —  ( loose-, hi )ol inn    '•"""i    Stulililf I.  /i.  h'nisl, 

.\   rifjlit  Sliill  —  Sto|i|iinj{  ,111   liiconuT — Wild   (leesi'  — 

Wild    Diuks I<,<l>,rl  lUiim. 

Kandiyohi  Pass  —  ( "aiiv.is-iiark  and  Red-Head — (ioose 

Deroys i'/iiir/is  .1.  /.immii iiiiui. 

C.wv  \>-i..\rK  .\.M>   ri;i<i<.\riN //'.  Miuhny  Laffaii.    726 

llhistralioiis:   .\i  the  Cluli  in  Colonial  l).iys /•!/).  Mayir. 

Dixiii^   for   Celery   (Two   i  uis) — 'I'lii,'    Nefarious    Pot- 
hunter—  Our  (Quarters — Kowinn   Down  to  the  lilind 

—  Pilind   at    Hiddison's    Point  —  Over  the    Decoys —  .    ' 

Joe — Interrupted  Pilgrims  —  .\  Toll  of  Ducks  Coming 
In — Dividing  the  Spoils — In  the  l.arder — Posthu- 
mous Migration  —  .\  Terraiiin  Hunter's  Home — 
'rerra])in  for  Three //'.  Afackay  l.affan. 

.\ Iter  a  (lood  Day's  Work I.   T.  Coc. 

A  Day  Wnii  riii.  R.vii.s Mfrcd  M.  Mayer.   750 

Illustrations:    .Male  and   Female   Rail James  C.  Ihutrd. 

A  Pusher — Rail-shooting Joseph  Pennell. 

Egg  of  the  Carolina  Rail.    ( I'Yom  the  collection  of  H.  B. 
Bailey.) 


mm 


li 


36 


(  ON  tents. 


''"'"   •'i"..i-(„N U/nu/  .]/.  A/ayc 

IllnstraliDns:  MwhaniMii  (,('  the  M.jk  li  l,.<  k  —  The 
(iL-nnan  Wheel  l(.(k  —  S|,aiii^li  I'liiil  lo.  k  — MaiiK.i, 
riiiit  l.xk  —  l.i'fau.  Iifiix's  IJrcui  h-lcadcT  —  I'arls  of 
a  Oiin  — St.  lif.ii  ol  I  laniiiarlcss  Urcc<:h-a(  tion  — 
I'alcnl  Ircl.lL'  Wcdncfast  (mid— I'arts  ..f  an  Ordi- 
nary l!arlo<k— Stanton's  Kclioiindin^  l.oik— llain- 
niL-rlcss  (uni— I'tikIi  .md  i'ari  of  ihf  lorc-ciid  ot 
Snuidcr  I  laninicrlcss  ( inn — Sncidcr's  I  )onl)l(;->;ri|,  'loi,- 
Icvi-r  (lini —  I  hrci'  IwisI  liarrcl — lour  twist  liarrcl 
—  Tuc,  Spirals  Ui'hk-d  Tot;,-!!,,  r  in  tiir  Middle  — 
Sian)|i  of  London  (iuinnakcrs  ( 'oin|janv  —  Sianiji  of 
till-    liinnin^^iiani    rrool-liouse. 


i'Ai;r. 


Ol'l"    OI"    DOORS. 


Cami's   \\I)  TkAMi'^  Aiidt  I   Kr\Ai)\ .1  Htoi  fhx.   Sor 

llliislrations  :    Cros-,   Sedioii    of    ( 'airi|,  —  ( iroinid   I'lan  of 

('ani|.— A    jinM|Mr I.  /..  //,i//n: 

I'roni    sludir-,    liy  !■'.     !•:.    ('iiunh:     \ii;lit     \iuw    of    tlii' 
r,ini|i —  Ktaadn.  fnai)  tlic  Soiiili  Shore  —  '{'lie   Trav 
clir — Wood    interior  on  .\Iotiiii    I  iimir — A  \'ieu  in 
the  (;re:it   liasiii.       p'roin    studies   liy  II.  W.  Roiiiiins: 
■Jlie  MissinL;  Link — r;ast  hraiK  h  ot   the  I'liioiisc  ot  — 

Ktaadn   Lake,  troni  the  Slide-  in  the  I'asin '/'/lomas  .]f,ii;in. 

I'Voni  a  study  iiy  L,   1  )e  I'orest :    Ktaadn   from  Creek  at 

West    I'jid   of  Lake (7i,ir/,s  .1.  VnihicrluKif. 

'''■'''  I'i^-' I' /■:/ln „{:■!■  Ktii:-:/ry. 


I  [iiu  I  KiM.i  I)  A  Hi;ai< 


Cluirlt's  /)i((ilcy   W'anicr.   .S20 


A  Imcwii   Willi  A  Tkoi 


C/iar/i's  t)it(ilcy  ll'iirncr.   ,S2  7 


(  Oiilruts 


27 


}|< 


<>\\    Ml   Mdi  \i    a   I'dkii 


l-'rcilcrii   .  I.  I. 


Kins,   l-i33 


lilNlr.itlnn  ,  :    Kc;i'l\ 


lur  Uurk— A    I 


iMilrrinisl  >  ^,1111  liiiii 


■  Miiiili  Atncrii  .'ii  ( io.it- 


III  Isir —  \rmi-.    I' 


dr'Ml  Auk — .-'I  ,irlii  llii-.  .ni'l  NUiiiij,'  ('nnndilc  — 
S'oiin^'  W  ;ilcrf')«l — ()v,li  —  Idiil  1.1'  S,ii;^.i  —  A 
SdiiiIi  Aiii'Tici!)  .Niiiiikry —  I  iir  I'.i  II  liird  —  (iuMrn 
Imi;^!'- — A  l.illlr  Slr.iiiL;rr  Irnin  the  'I'miiii  s  —  A 
I'aiiiilv  '4    M  reel  h  (  )u  1   — I'lMcmk    Si  nrn 


.I,i„i,s  <  '.   r.cir.l. 


Iliiw   tin;  WiiiL'    i.    Wi 


inl,  \\iMii|)i-i| l-ii,liii,    .1.  1.1 


Biiw-SiiDoi  i\( M.uirur    TlinDip 

IllustMti'Mis  :    Slriii;;iiiL;   lln'    I'.iiw—  I  »i.i\n  iiif;   tin-    linw  — 


sail. 


Aiming;  IHkIi //'./..  SJii/fiin/. 

A    (lodd    'I'Mrni.'l luiiniii-  I:,  iiijinril. 

WImI    \'ni  AiiTK'il  Al  —  \\  lull    the  Arrow   (iut  'riuTr  — 

A  SiK  (  cs^liil  Shot —  riiimdcr  l'ii?ii|)ir liimrsC.  liiiinl. 

CajMir Mini  ('.  /iVv/n'rv,/. 

A  Slaid  t)|i|  l.iriiirr /■.//vvV/c'  A'/i/:;.Wit'. 

Our    (.imi)    (111    liidi.iii    kivcr  —  (  )ii    llir    ImI.;;c    oI     llir 

Woods  —  Alunj;  the  I'.iv —  llir  ll.iiiiit  uf  tlir  iicroii  .     .    'I'lumris  Muniii. 

Wailing  lor  a  Shot Aljird  k',i/'/',s. 

'rail-pici  c /■*.  Minflitiiil  .Inns/roiiy. 


W 


ows,  Arrows,  .1 


nd  Al  1  oiitrniKiits. 


'Jiii;    I)l.'i\s -( iuN 


Ufm/   M.  Mavvr.    SSi 


lNi)i;\ 


KS- 


THH    PR  li  HI  STORK      HUNTER. 


Hv    ALFRKl)    M.    M  A  Y  K  R  , 


(< 


m 


BY  hunting  and  fishing  the  prehistoric  man  obtained  his  siilj- 
sistence,  and  in  these  pursuits  were  his  greatest  pleasures. 
It  may  tlien  be  of  interest  to  the  modern  sportsman  —  who, 
liegging  his  pardon,  is  himseU  a  good  deal  of  a  savage  —  to  know 
something  of  this  ancient  brother  hunter  and  angler,  from  whom  he 
has  inherited  his  love  of  sport  and  his  savage  instincts. 

Thanks  to  the  wonderful  discoveries  of  quite  recent  days,  we 
can  now  give  the  history  of  man  as  a  hunter  and  angler  from  his 
first  known  appearance  on  earth  to  the  present  day.  We  first  find 
him  living  in  the  river-valleys  of  Europe  and  of  this  country,  his 
only  weapons  of  the  chase  being  pieces  of  flint  rudely  chipped  into 
roughly  pointed  forms.  Thence  we  track  him  to  the  ca\es  in  the 
banks  of  the  rivers,  where  the  fashion  of  his  arms  of  flint  and  bone, 
and  his  skill  in  the  arts  of  design  and  carving,  show  that  he  has  made 
a  notable  step  in  his  progress  toward  civilization.  He  is  now  a  fish- 
erman as  well  as  a  hunter.  Then  we  see  him  as  a  dweller  on  the 
shores  of  the  sea  and  the  borders  of  the  fjords,  and  the  dog 
first  appears  as  man's  companion.  Thence  we  trace  him  to  the 
lakes,  where  he  dwells  in  wooden  houses  built  on  piles.  He 
wears  woven  fabrics  as  well  as  skins,  cultivates  the  soil,  and  has 
herds.  He  fashions  stone  into  elegantly  shaped  tools  and  weapons, 
with  highly  polished  cutting  edges.  Later,  he  replaces  these  with 
bronze  implements  cast  in  stone  molds.  The  dog  now  shares 
with  man  the  perils  and  excitement  of  the  chase  and  the  comforts 
of  his  dwelling.  The  pile-dweller  builds  canoes  or  dug-outs,  which 
he  paddles  over  the  lake,  and  he  angles  with  spindles  of  bone  and 
finely  shaped  barbed  hooks  of  bronze  suspended  to  lines  spun  of  flax. 


I 


111  •! 


i 


an 


30 


The  Pnliistoric  Huiiicy. 


We  will  attempt  to  give  mosaics  of  these  primitive  hunters  and 
anglers,  formed,  it  is  true,  out  of  rather  large  stones  and  of  few 
colors ;  for  the  pictures  have  to  he  made  out  of  what  fragments 
this  prehistoric  man  has  left  of  his  habitations,  his  feasts,  his  flint, 
bone,  and  bronze  implements  his  sketches  and  his  carvings.  .Some- 
times, however,  the  arrangement  of  these  fragments  will  make  an  al- 
most accurate  picture  of  him.  We  can  clothe  him  in  his  garments, 
adjust  his  crude  ornaments,  place  in  his  hands  the  arms  of  the  chase, 
and  see  him  as  he  once  pursued  the  noble  gaiii<;  which  e\ery\vhere 
surroundetl  him. 


'';"*! 

,.:i^ 


'rilK     Hi  NIK K    (IK    TIIK     Dkll'l. 

Deep  below  the  surface  of  the  gravel-beds  in  many  river-valle\  s 
in  I'rance,  Knglanil,  and  various  other  parts  of  the;  world  are  found 
stone  axes,  spe'ar-heads  anil  knives  of  Hint,  rudely  chipped  into 
shape  by  races  of  men  who  were  tlie  fu'st  hunters  oi  whom  we  ha\(; 
any  recortl.  The  records  these  hunters  have;  left  are  these  stone 
implements   and   their   own    bones,  which    are    found    side    by  side 


^^S--^^iJ:M^S:±  "JZ  j1 


I 


I 


AXK   or   .\RCM;1vnl.ITHIC   A(;F    ForND  AT  A  DEPTH    (iF    TEN    FKI-,T   IN   THE    r.RAVKI-HEDS   (iF  THE 

UII.l  VIUM    AT    Miiri.IN-Ql  1(;N()N,    NEAR     AHHEVIIIF,    VAI.l.EY    OF    THE     SOMME  — 

FROM   THE   COLLECTION   OF  ALFRED  M.   MAYEH. 


The  Prehistoik  Ilitiiicr. 


31 


SPKAK-IIEAD    FOUND    AT    SAMK    I'l.ACK    As    AXK 


I  ROM    lOI.I.IXIION    OK    ALFKKD    M.     MA^  KK. 


with    the    bones    of  the    animals    they  slew,   anil  whose    flesh  was 
probably  their  only  food. 

These  gravel-beds,  forming  what  is  called  river-drift,  are  of  great 
age.  Lyell  is  of  opinion  that  the  chipped-flint  implements  and  the 
bones  found  in  the  drift  of  the  river  Somme,  in  I'rance,  are  at  lea.st 
one  hundred  thousand  years  old  ;  while  others  hold  that  two  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  years  have  elapsed  since  these  ancient  men  hunted 
with  their  rude  arn\s  such  extinct  animals  as  the  great  Irish  elk,  the 
mammoth,  the  urus,  and  the  cave  bear.  With  their  stone  axes  and 
flint  spears  they  brought  down  the  n()l)U;  game,  and  skinned  and 
cut  it  up  witli  their  flint  knives. 

The  gigantic  Irish  elk.  whicli  stood  ten  feet  in  height  and  carried 
magnificent  antlers  which  spreatl  eleven  feet  from  tip  to  tip;  the 
urus,  which  disappeared  in  historic  times,  and  which  was  descriln^d  b\ 
Ciesar  as  "  nearly  ecpial  to  the  elephant  in  i)ulk,  but  in  color,  shape, 
ami  kind  resembling  a  bull  ";  the  cwv.  bear,  longer  than  our  grizzK  ; 
the  cave  lion  ;  the  hyena;  a  woolly-haired  rhinoceros;  a  hippo|)ola- 
mus  ;  tJK;  nianunoth  ;  the  aurochs,  or  l)isoii  ;  the  musk-ox;  the  wild 
horse;  tlu!se  were  the  animals  huntei,!  by  these  most  ancient  of 
prehistoric  men.  They  have  all  |)asseil  away,  except  the  aurochs, 
which  the  Russian  (iovernmeiit  lias  saveil  from  extermination  bv 
strictly  guarding  them  in  the  fort'sts  of  Lithuania,  and  the  musk- 
ox,  which,  however,  now  li\-es  in  the;  arctic  n^gions  and  is  sel- 
dom seen  below  the  parallel  of  sixt\-eight.  The  rest  are  only 
known    to   us   from    their   bones,    exceot   tiie    mammoth,   which   has 


32 


The  Prehistoric  Hunter. 


SKKI.F.TDN    (IF    IMF.  (JRF.AT   IRISH    KI.K — IN   THK    NFW   VOKK    MltSKI  M   OF   NATURAL   mST<lRY. 


been  fouml  in  the  flesh,  imbecklcd  in  the  arctic  ice  of  Siberia, 
where  a  few  have  been  preserved  by  refrigeration  during  untold 
ages. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  make  a  sketch  of  this  ancient  hunter.  We 
see  him  clad  in  skins.  He  is  armed  with  a  stone  axe  fastened 
to  a  long  handle,  a  long-shafted  flint-tipped  spear,  and  a  sharp 
flint  knife.  Thus  equipped,  the  hunter  of  the  drift  set  out  in 
pursuit  of  game  which  in  size  and  numbers  exceeded  any 
now  existing.  We  can  imagine  a  company  of  these  men  craftily 
approaching  a  herd  of  aurochs,  or  wild  horses,  selecting  one  for 
their  prey,  and  then,  with  the  stealthy  approach  of  the  tiger, 
drawing  near  till  with  sudden  spring  they  felled  the  animal  to 
the  ground  with  blows  of  their  tomahawks  or  thrusts  of  their 
lances ;  or  we  see  them  speeding  over  the  snow,  giving  chase  to  the 
huge  mammoth,  the  wild  urus,  or  to  the  .swift  elk,  till  these  animals, 
iLUCcumbing  to  the  superior  endurance  of  man  to  fatigue  and  hunger, 
allow  the  hunters  to  surround  them,  and  the  game  falls,  pierced  with 
^int  lances  or  stunned  with  the  blows  of  stone  axes. 


The  Pfehistofic  Hunter. 


33 


I  here  recall  the  narration  of  a  friend  of  mine,  an  honest  hunter 
anil  trapper  of  northern  Maine.  His  rifle  became  useless  when  far 
away  from  his  home- camp,  and  short  of  food,  he  came  upon  the 
tracks  of  a  large  bull-moose.  On  his  snow-shoes  he  followed  these 
tracks    till    night,    when  he  slept  in    the    hollow  he    scooped    out 


KMFK    KOLNI)   AT   SAMK   I'l.ACK   AS  AXE   AND   SPEAR-HEAD  —  Col.I.KCTION   Ol'   AI.FRKD   M.    MAYER. 

between  two  fallen  trees.  At  break  of  day,  he  was  up  and  speeding 
on  the  snow  after  his  game.  In  the  afternoon,  he  first  caught  sight 
of  the  moose.  He  had  nothing  with  which  to  attack  the  huge  beast 
but  a  pocket-knife.  With  this  he  cut  down  a  sapling  birch  and  tied 
the  knife  to  it  in  such  jnanner  that  the  blade  could  not  close  upon 
the  handle.  He  only  stopped  a  moment  in  the  chase  to  cut  down 
the  sapling,  trimming  it  of  its  branches  and  tying  to  it  the  knife 
while  he  was  scudding  over  the  snow.  Overtaking  the  moose  and 
using  his  extemporized  lance,  he  gave  him  a  severe  stab  in  the 
throat.  The  bull  at  once  charged  him  ;  but  the  hunter  was  pre- 
pared for  this,  and  escaped  the  danger  by  quickly  stepping  behind  a 
tree.  After  several  repetitions  of  thi;.  manoeuvre  the  moose  became 
exhausted  from  loss  of  blood  and  desperation,  and  fell  at  last,  a 
victim  to  the  blade  of  a  pocket-knife  in  the  hands  of  a  man,  because 
he  was  his  superior  in  endurance. 

While  he  told  his  story,  I  pictured  to  myself  the 
man  of  the  drift  armed  with  a  similar  weapon  in  his 
sharp  flint  spear,  and  chasing  the  great  Irish  elk 
over  the  crust  of  the  snow-clad  hills  of  Europe. 

After  my  friend  had  slain  the  moose,  he  stit  out 
in  search  of  a  fellow-trapper  who  would  help  him 
carry  the  meat  to  camp  and  share  it  with  him;  but 
before  he  left  the  moose  he  turned  him  on  his  back, 
and  with  lumps  of  snow  propped  up  his  legs,  so 
that    if  a  storm    should  occur   in  his  absence  the 


AHRdWIlEAlJ  FROM  KII.- 
I.AHNF.Y,  IRKI.AND— 
COI.I.KCTION  OF  Al.- 
FRKI)    M.    MAYBR. 


3 


34 


The  Pn'/iistonc  Hunter. 


I!  11 


siM..\H-m;  \i)  ror.M)  nkah  i'oni-i.eroy  in  thr  oii.iiviiM  of  the  vai.i.ky  of  tiii;  i.oike  — 

rUOM     IIIK    Ctll. LECTION    OK   AI.I'KII)    M.    MAYER. 

moose  would  not  hn  lost  to  slight  in  the  snow.  This  is  a  usual  prac- 
tice with  iiunters,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  the  same  plan  was 
practiced  by  the  cave-men;  for  in  one  of  their  sketches  of  a  group  of 
reindeer,  three  are  on  their  backs.  One  in  particular,  with  stiffened 
legs  in  the  air,  is  not  merely  a  sketch  made  on  the  surface  of  the 
piece  of  antler  in  a  reversed  position,  a  fact  which  is  at  once  evident 
when  we  examine  the  j)ose  of  the  head,  neck,  and  legs  with  the  draw- 
ing turned  upside  down. 

We  may  reasonably  suppose  that  yet  another  plan  of  hunting 
was  practiced  by  these  prehistoric  men.  In  the  chase  of  the  mam- 
moth or  the  aurochs,  one  of  these  creatures  would  sometimes  be 
surrounded  by  the  hunters  and  driven  over  the  brow  of  a  precipice, 
an  experience  which  would  be  likely  to  suggest  the  use  of  pitfalls. 

Flint  axes,  spears,  and  knives  were  the  only  arms 
of  the  chase  used  by  the  men  of  the  drift,  for  no 
arrowhead,  nor  any  kind  of  lishing  implement  or 
harpoon,  has  been  found  in  the  drift.  On  finding  the 
arrowhead,  we  infer  the  use  of  the  bow.  This  inven- 
tion does  not  appear  till  the  period  of  the  cave-dwellers 
— a  more  recent  date,  yet  far  removed  in  time  from  '^''""\Vpont-u"kot 
ours.     How  man,  armed  only  with  the  lance  and  the     rLKKEifM^'MAVER! 


11 


i   ! 


The  Pychistoric  Hunter. 


35 


stom.'  tomahawk,  could  approach  near  enough  to  kill  the  swift-footccl 
animals  of  the  drift  period,  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  wild  animals 
and  birtis  do  not  naturally  regard  man  as  their  enemy  till  he  has 
taught  them  differently  by  attacking  and  woumling  them.  How 
often  has  the  sportsman  in  the  recesses  of  the  Maine  woods  seen 
the  ruffed  grouse,  only  a  few  feet  distant,  walking  leisurely  across 
his  path ;  while  in  cultivated  sections  of  our  country  he  is  the 
most  wary  of  birds,  often  disappointing  the  sportsman  by  springing 
up  before  him  many  yards  beyond  gun-shot.  Also  the  scjuirrels, 
and  even  the  deer,  in  regions  where  they  have  never  been  molested, 
do  not  exhibit  that  extreme  fear  of  man  which  is  usually  attributed 
to  them  as  part  of  their  nature.  It  is  also  to  be  remembered  that 
during  the  period  of  the  drift,  man  must  have  been  few  in  number 
compared  with  the  game  which  he  pursued,  so  that  it  took  a  long 
time  before  the  animals  over  an  extended  area  became  aware  that 
he  was  an  enemy  more  dangerous  than  his  size  anil  appearance  had 
led  them  at  first  to  infer. 

Hut  as  the  game  became  aware  of  this  fact,  man  had  to  devise 
weapons  which  could  be  projected  from  the  hunter  to  the  now  more 
wary  and  more  distant  game,  and  the  necessity  for  such  weapons  led 
to  the  invention  of  the  bow  and  arrow,  the  sling,  the  bola,  the  boom- 
erang, and  the  blow-gun. 

Even  in  our  own  days  we  have  seen  the  change  in  the  range  of  fire- 
arms advance  with  the  increase  of  wariness  in  the  game  of  the  West. 
This  education  of  animals  in  the  knowledge  of  man's  killing  power  is 
also  especially  notable  in  the  difficulty  of  now  approaching  the  wild 
turkey,  compared  with  the  manner  in  which  it  could  be  killed  during 
the  early  period  of  the  history  of  this  country. 


Thk  Cavk-uwei.i.inc.  Huntkk  and  Fisherman'. 

The  men  of  the  drift  were  succeeded  by  the  men  of  the  caves. — 
so  called  because  they  used  these  natural  shelters  as  dwellings.  The 
flint  and  bone  implements  of  these  men,  and  the  relics  of  their  feasts, 
are  found  in  the  caves  of  Germany,  Switzerland,  Helgium,  and  Eng- 
land ;  but  especially  notable  are  the  caves  of  the  valleys  of  the  rivers 
Dordogne  and  Vezere,  in  France. 


36 


The  Prchistonc  Hunter. 


In  the  hardened  beds  of  these  caves  are  found  flint  and  bone 
implements,  and  sketches  and  carvinj,'s  on  bones,  which  show  that 
the  men  of  the  caves  were  much  more  advanced  tlian  the  men  of 
the  ilrift.  They  hunted  the  same  }j;ame,  but  it  appears  that  the  mam- 
moth and  j^reat  elk  had  now  diminished  in  numbers,  and  tliat  the 
herds  of  reindeer  had  so  increased  that  this  period  in  the  history  of 
prehistoric  man  is  often  called  the  reindeer  period. 

To  the  flint  axes,  spears,  and  knives  of  the  tlrift-men,  the  cave- 
dweller  had  added  the  arrow  and  bow  and  fish-harpoons,  the  heads 
of  which  were  skillfully  and  with  j^reat  labor  cut  with  flint-flakes  out 
of  the  horn  and  bone  of  the  reindeer.  Some  of  these  harpoons  are 
armed  with  barbs  alon^  their  sides ;  others  are  formed  of  lance- 
shaped  pieces  of  bone,  broad  and  hollow  at  their  bases,  showinj,^ 
that  these  were  probably  placed  on  the  end  of  a  shaft,  and  con- 
nected therewith  by  a  lon_ij  cord.  On  strikinj^  the  fish  the  head  of 
the  harpoon  would  separate  from  the  shaft,  and  the  fish  could  be 
played  and  landed  by  the  cord. 

Mr.  Phillips  has  shown,  in  his  chapter  on  "The  Primitive  iMsh- 
hook,"  that  the  cave-dwellers  probably  used  a  flint-flake,  or  splinter, 
in  a  manner  similar  to  the  baited  needle  used  in  these  days  in  "  snig- 
glinir"  for  eels  and  pike.  A  similar  angling  implement,  made  of 
bone,  has  been  found  among  the  relics  of  the  pile -dwellers  in  the 
.Swiss  lakes,  and  our  Indians  of  I'Venchman's  Hay,  Maine,  seem  to 
have  used  a  like  angling  tool.  .According  to  Dr.  Keller  ("  Lake- 
dwellings  of  .Switzerland  and  other  parts  of  Europe"),  the  sniggler 
yet  survives  in  Switzerland,  where  it  is  used  for  catching  wild  ducks. 

The  fish-bones  and  carvings  found  in  the  caves  show  that  their 
inhabitants  speared  or  caught  the  salmon,  trout,  pike,  and  carp. 

Though  whistles  made  of  the  foot-bone  of  the  reindeer,  with  a 
hole  in  one  side  near  the  bottom  of  the  cavity,  have  been  found  in 
the  caves,  yet  they  were 
not  used  as  dog-calls,  for 
the  relics  of  the  caves  do 
not  show  that  they  had  this 
animal  as  assistant  in  the 
chase  and  companion  and 
protector.  By  blowing 
into  one  of  these  whistles, 


f. 


i 


PREIIISTOKIC   CARVING   IN   IVORY. 


The  Prcliistonc  Hinitci'. 


a  sound  is  |)roiliicocl  that  can  lu"  heard  at  a  considerable 
ilistancc.  "  I  low  many  thousands  ofyfars."  sa\s  Dr.  Rau, 
in  liis  "Marl)  Man  in  Iuiro|)f,"  "may  have  elapsed  since 
the  sharp  call  of  those  whistles  rallied  the  savaj^e  hunters 
when  they  were  tollowinj,^  the  track  of  the  reindeer  or 
tlu;  horse  !" 

In  tlu'ir  hahits  of  lift:,  the  cave-dwellers  resembled  the 
lisquimos.  I'hciy  left  the  remains  ot"  their  feasts  around 
them  in  their  caves.  They  could  not  h.ave 
lived  amidst  such  refuse  e.\ce|)t  in  an  arctic 
climate;  and  this  supposition  is  confirmed  by 
the  fact  that  the  bones  of  the  musk-o.\  and 

I  ISII-M'KAK, 

reindeer  which  are  found  in  these  caves  be-  '^^^i"•  <  aw.ks 
lonij  to  animals  which  now  live  only  within  or  (juitc 
near  the  arctic  circle.  That  a  cold  climatt:  then  e.xisted 
is  also  shown  from  the  bones  of  birds,  whose  variety 
also  proves  that  they  were  expert  fowlers.  The  snowy- 
owl, —  now  only  found  in  the  cold  north, —  the  arctic 
willow-j:;rouse.  the  ptarmiji^an,  the  capercailzie,  and  a 
species  of  crane,  were  the  feathered  game  of  these  old 
sportsmen. 

In  the  cave  of  La  Madelaine.  in  the  valley  of  the 
Vezeres,    has   been   found  a  bone  lance-head, 
on  which  is  engraved  a  flock  of  birds,  presum- 
ably ducks,  as  they  scud  along  the  water  just 
before  rising  on  the  wing.* 

Hut  this  resemblance  of  the  cave-dwellers 
to  the  Esquimos  does  not  stop  here.     They  are  also  alike     |f;|i.  j 
ill  having  similarly  formed  flint  and  bone  implements,  and     %k^ 
in    their    peculiar    talent    for   carving   with    flint-flakes   on 
stont.'  and  bone. 

The  cave-men  were  clad  in  furs.  These  they  cut  into 
shape  with  flint  knives,  and  maile  into  garments  by  sewing 
them  together  with  the  sinews  of  reindeer,  threatled  on  bone 
needles.  On  their  hands  and  arms  they  wore  long  fur  gloves, 
to  protect  them  from  the  intense  cold. 


FISH-SPEARS,    I.A 
MADKI.AISF.. 


*  Sec  "  Reliqui;!;  .\(|uit.inic;u  ;  of  Christy  anil  L.irtet,"  ]).  24,  fig.  5. 


11  ARl'OON- 
I'OINI,  ciF 
IIDNK  AM> 
NKI'llKiri,. 


38 


7//<'  Pit  historic  llniilcf. 


Armed  with  their  hows,  and  lances  and  arrows  tipped  with 
Hint,  and  carryinj,'  at  their  siilcs  |)()ij,fnarils  of  reindeer  horn,  with 
l)eautirully  carveil  hantUes,  the  nun  of  tlie  caves  set  out  in  pursuit 
of  the  urus,  the  wiKI  horse,  ami  the  reindeer  ;  and  if  such  forniid- 
ahle  heasts  as  the  inaninioth,  the-  cave-l)ear,  or  lion  came  in  their  way, 
they  dill  not  hesitati-  to  j^ivt;  them  battle.  In  one  of  the  caves  have 
been  found  st:veral  incisors  of  the  cavobear  and  the  li{)n,  on  which 
(with  tlinl-tlakes)  are  admirably  depicted  various  ilenizens  t)f  the 
forest,  the  stream,  and  the  sea.  'I'hese  teeth  are  perforated  at  their 
roots,  and  no  iloubt  were  once  strung  in  a  necklace  to  adorn  some 
ancient  Ximroil,  mijj^hty  amonj^  thosi-  who  dwelt  in  caves. 

The  bones  of  the  larjj^iT  animals,  like  the  mammoth  and 
woolly  riiinoceros,  are  rare  in  the  caves.  This  is  easil\  accounted 
for.  The  hunters,  after  brinifin}^  down  such  lar^e  j^ame,  would, 
after  the  fatit^ue  anil  excitement  of  such  a  j^reat  hunt,  make  a  feast 
on  the  spot  where  the  hu_i;e  victim  fell,  and  cuttinj,^  up  the  carcass 
with  their  flint  knives,  they  would  carry  what  they  could  to  the 
caves  for  their  wives  and  little  ones.  "We  can  picture  to  our- 
selves," says  Mr.  Dawkins  ("  Karly  Man  in  Hritain"\  "the  camp 
around  the  carcass,  and  the  fires  kindled  not  merely  to  cook  the 
flesh,  but  to  keep  away  the  beasts  of  prey  attracted  by  the  scent  of 
blood.  The  tribe  assembled  around,  and  the  ilark  trunks  of  the  oaks 
or  Scotch  firs  liirhted  up  by  the  blaze,  with  hyenas  lurking  in  the 
background,  are  worthy  of  the  brush  of  a  future  Rembrandt." 

Tin;    Hl'NTEK  AN'I)  FiSIIERMW  oK  TlIK    SeA-SIIOKK  AM)  TIIK  FjOUI). 

The  arctic  climate  in  which  the  men  of  the  river-drift  and  the 
cave-dwellers  lived  slowly  gave  place  to  a  climate  more  like  that  of 
our  own  age.  During  this  climatic  change,  the  mammoth,  the  Irish 
elk,  the  great  bear  and  cave-lion  disappeared,  while  the  reindei^r, 
musk-ox,  chamois  and  ibex  either  slowly  migrated  to  arctic  regions 
or  moved  to  alpine  heights  where  they  could  have  the  cold  suited  to 
their  natures. 

Man  changed  his  habits  with  the  change  of  climate.  He  appears 
now  as  a  dweller  on  the  shores  of  the  sea  and  an  inhabitant  of  huts 
built  on  piles  driven  into  the  bottom  of  lakes.  Living  near  and  on 
the  water,  he  becomes  an  angler  as  well  as  hunter. 


1 1 


The  Prehistoric  Hunter. 


39 


Alonjj  the  shores  of  the  Danish  ishind  of  Zealand  and  the  fjords 
of  Juthinil  are  found  vast  ileposits  of  shells,  the  remains  of 
feasts.  Some  of  these  shell-heaps  are  a  tlH)usand  fiuit  lonj^  anti 
nearly  two  hundred  feet  in  width.  Tlu  \  are  formeil  of  the  shells  of 
the  oyster,  cockle,  mussel,  and  periwinkle.  Amonj^f  these  an;  found 
the  hones  of  ducks,  s\\;ins,  and  j^'eese,  of  the  ^reat  penjjuin,  or  auk, 
and  of  the  larjj;(;  jj^rouse  known  as  the  capercailzie  ( 'I'ctrao  urogalliis.  ) 
"This  bird,  no  longer  found  in  Denmark,  thou^di  still  inhabitinjLj  the 
forests  of  (lermany,  deserves  special  mention.  In  sprinjjf  it  feeds 
chietly  on  the  buds  of  the  pine,  a  kind  of  tree  not  growinjj;  naturally 
at  |)resent  in  Denmark,  but  very  common  during  the  stone  aj^e,  as 
has  been  ascertained  by  the  examination  of  Danish  peat  boj^s. 
Thus  it  would  seem  that  the  disappearance  of  the  pine  from  Den- 
mark caused  the  capercailzie  to  leave  that  country."  Hones  of  the 
sparrow  are  never  found  in  these  shell-heaps.   (Happy  people!) 

The  ducks,  geese,  and  swans  which  these  fowlers  hunteil  they 
may  have  killed  in  a  manner  similar  to  that  described,  as  follows,  by 
Col.  \V\  H.  Gilder  in  "Among  the  Esquimos  with  Schwatka " 
("Scribner's  Monthly,"  vol.  22.  p.  81): 


"  A  most  novel  .ind  interesting  method  of  Ijird-catihing  is  pncticed  tUiring  the  spring 
.and  early  summer,  while  the  ducks  and  geese  are  molting  and  unable  to  tly.  The 
Ks(iuimo  puts  his  Xmv/^' — that  is,  his  seal-skin  canoe — on  his  head,  like  an  immense 
hat,  and  repairs  to  the  big  lake,  or  the  sea-side,  where  he  has  seen  the  helpless  birds 
swimming  and  teeding  in  the  water.  Here  he  lauiK  lies  his  frail  bark,  and  when  seateil, 
which  is  not  always  accomi)lishcd  without  a  ducking,  takes  his  double-blailed  oar  in  his 
hands,  and  at  oiue  starts  in  jjursuit  of  the  game.  Hefore  him,  on  his  kwi/.:.  where  he 
cm  seize  it  at  the  projiermomcnt.  lies  his(Uick-s|)ear,  together  with  other  implements  of 
the  chase.  Cautiously  a|)proaching  the  featherless  tlock,  he  sometimes  gets  (piite  near 
before  his  i)resence  is  observed;  but  even  then,  before  he  is  within  striking  distance, 
there  is  a  great  spluttering  in  the  water,  as  the  band  scatters  in  e\ery  direction,  \ainly 
lieating  the  water  with  the  curious  looking  stunijjs  that  soon  will  wear  their  ]ilumage 
and  once  more  do  duty  as  wings.  Some  dive  below  the  surfate  and  tome  up  a  great 
way  off.  and  always  just  where  you  are  not  looking  for  them  ;  but  as  the  lloc  k  takes 
alarm,  the  hunter  dashes  forward,  feeling  the  necessity  for  speed  rather  than  for  caution. 
He  is  soon  within  fifteen  or  twent\-  feet  of  the  struggling  mass,  and,  seizing  a  curious- 
k)oking  spear,  with  three  barbs  of  une(iual  length,  he  poises  it  for  a  moment  in  the  air. 
and  then  hurls  it  with  unerring  aim  at  the  devoted  bird,  imjjaling  it  with  a  sharpened 
iron  or  bone  sjiike  in  the  center  of  the  barbs.  The  handle  of  the  sjiear  is  of  wood, 
and  floats  on  the  surface  of  the  water,  so  that  the  hunter  can  recover  his  weapon  and 
the  game  at  his  leisure." 


40 


The  Prehistoric  Hunter. 


'A 


:i| 


511 


From  the  existence  in  these  shell-heaps,  or  "  kitchen-middens,"  of 
the  bones  of  the  cod,  herring,  flounder,  and  eel,  we  may  infer  that 
these  fishermen  had  boats,  made  like  the  Esquimo  kyak,  of  seal- 
skins; or,  more  probably,  they  used  dug-outs,  hollowed  by  the 
action  of  fire  and  the  cuts  of  their  stone  axes  and  gouges.  In  these 
they  ventured  on  the  sea  to  take  these  fish.  They  also  hunted  the  stag, 
the  roe,  the  wild  boar,  urus,  wolf,  fox,  lynx,  beaver,  seal,  and  otter, 
for  the  bones  of  these  animals  are  found  in  the  kitchen-middens,  split 
lengthwise  with  flint  tools,  whose  marks  are  seen  on  them.  They 
thus  extracted  the  marrow  from  the  bones  and  the  brain  from  the  skulls. 
The  bones  of  the  hare  are  wanting.  Perhaps  like  the  Laplanders 
of  our  day,  they  had  superstitious  notions  concerning  this  animal 
which  prevented  them  fron'  slaying  him. 

The  bones  of  the  animals  of  the  kitchen-middens  are  gnav/ed 
dog-fashion,  showing  that  the  dog  now  first  appears  as  the  com- 
panion of  man.  He  was  also  man's  victim,  for  his  skull  is  often 
found  split  open  so  that  his  brain  could  be  eaten.  Let  us  give 
these  people  the  credit  of  supposing  that  they  sacrificed  one  of 
their  own  household  only  on  great  ceremonial  occasions,  as  is  the 
case  with  our  Indians. 

The  Hunter  and  Angler  of  the  Lakes. 

Far  more  interesting  than  the  remain?  m  the  kitchen-middens 
are  the  relics  found  at  the  bottom  of  the  lakes  of  Switzerland, 
Germany,  France,  and  Italy.  During  the  winter  of  1854,  the  water 
in  the  Swiss  lakes  sank  to  a  very  low  level,  and  gave  the  dwellers 
along  the  shore  the  opportunity  of  adding  to  their  lands  by  building 
walls  along  the  low  water-line.  During  these  constructions  at  Meilen, 
on  Lake  Zurich,  stone,  bronze,  and  bone  implements  and  fragments 
of  pottery  were  brought  to  light.  Tlie  tons  of  piles  were  also 
found,  and  this  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  habitations  of  ancient 
men.  They  lived  in  dwellings  built  on  piles,  somewhat  after  the 
manner  of  savages  in  Venezuela  and  in  some  Polynesian  and  Asiatic 
Islands.  Similar  dwellings  are  inhabited  by  certain  African  tribes 
in  Dahomey  and  in  Lake  Mohrya.  Even  in  our  own  country  there 
is  a  lacustrine  village  at  St.  Malo  Pass,  near  Lake  Borgne,  Louisiana, 
where  dwell  Malay  fishermen  from  the  Philippine  Islands.* 
•  In  "  Harper's  Weekly,"  March  31,  1883. 


The  Prehistoric  Huutcr. 


41 


rwii«'j^<ju>< 


The  houses  forming  the  villages  of  the 
European  lake-dwellers  were  constructed  of  a 
framework  of  wood,  interwoven  with  withes 
and  encased  in  mud.  The  roofs  were  thatched, 
and  a  hole  in  the  roof  let  out  the  smoke, 
which  arose  from  slabs  of  stone  on  which  they 
built  their  fires.  Many  of  these  houses,  of 
rectangular  and  circular  forms,  were  erected 
on  one  large  platform,  of  two  or  three  acres 
in  area,  supported  by  the  piles.  A  narrow 
causeway,  often  two  thousand  yards  and  more 
in  length,  led  from  the  villajj^e  to  the  shore,  arrowhkad  from  pilf-dweu.- 

'^  °  INU   IN   I.AKK   BIF.NNK.,  SWITZER- 

thus  giving  them  protection  from  hostile  tribes    iand-from  collection  ok 

°  °  1^  _  ALFRED   M.   MAYER. 

and  from  the  attacks  of  ferocious  beasts. 

In  some  of  the  smaller  lakes,  mounds  were  formed  of  sticks, 
trunks  of  trees,  stones  and  loam,  with  piles  driven  in  their  midst  to 
give  stability  to  this  foundation.  The  dwellings  on  these  mounds, 
with  their  interwoven  withes  and  encasement  of  mud,  must  have 
appeared  like  huge  beaver-houses.  Probably  the  beaver  was  their 
first  instructor  in  lacustrine  architecture. 

From  the  relics  of  these  people,  we  can  quite  accurately  reproduce 
their  life.  They  clothed  themselves  in  skins  and  fabrics  woven  of 
flax,  and  were  armed  with  axes — no  longer  roughly  chipped,  but 
now  handsomely  formed  and  polished — mounted  in  sockets  of  elk 
horn,  which  were  fastened  to  wooden  handles.  They  carried  bows 
made  of  yew,  and  arrows  and  spears  armed  with  neatly  shaped,  sharp 
flints  which  were  fastened  to  the  shafts  with  asphalt  and  firm 
wrappings  of  the  tendons  of  the  stag.  It  is  probable  that  they  were 
dexterous  in  the  use  of  the  sling.  They  constructed  dug-outs,  in  which 
they  paddled  over  the  lakes,  and  angled  from  them  with  their  bone 
snigglers,  and  hooks  made  of  the  tusks  of  the  wild  boar  for  the  great 
lake  trout  and  the  huge  pike.  They  also  fished  with  nets  woven 
of  flax. 

During  a  later  period  in  their  history,  bronze  was  introduced,  and 
then  their  arms  became  more  effective  and  more  elegant  in  form, 
although  similar  to  the  same  weapons  previously  made  of  stone  and 
bone.  The  greatest  advance  the  use  of  bronze  produced  was  in 
their  angling  tools,  for  their  hooks  of  bronze  are  nearly  as  perfect  in 


I  K 


42 


The  Pycliistoric  Hnutcr. 


Ill 


%\ 


i»i 


H: 


form  and  proportion  as  those  used  by  tlic  ani^Icrs  of  our  own  day, 
as  is  seen  from  an  inspection  of  the  bronze  hook  depicted  in  Mr. 
Phillips's  chapter  on  "  The  Prehistoric  Fish-hook." 

While  the  aged  men.  women,  and  children  were  employed  in 
forming  weapons,  canoes,  agricultural  tools,  pottery,  or  in  weaving 
cloths  and  nets,  the  men  set  out  over  the  causeway, — some  to  lead 
their  flocks  to  pasture  ami  guard  them  from  the  wolves  and  bears, 
while  others,  taking  to  the  mountains  and  the  dells,  hunted  the  elk, 
the  stag,  the  urus,  the  bison,  the  roe-deer,  the  wild  boar,  and  the 
brown  bear  ;  while  others  devoted  their  time  to  trapping  the  fox  and 
the  beaver.  The  hare  they  did  not  chase,  although  they  were  accom- 
panied by  dogs.  Indeed,  the  dog  is  now  first  seen  in  the  history  of 
prehistoric  man  as  a  companion,  whose  friendship,  intelligence,  and 
moral  qualities  were  so  highly  appreciated  by  these  hunters  that  they 
would  not  partake  of  his  flesh.  The  skull  of  the  dog  is  found  un- 
broken among  the  relics  at  the  bottom  of  the  lakes. 

"  When  evening  draws  near,  smoke  begins  to  rise  from  the  huts, 
where  the  women  are  baking  and  cooking,  for  the  men  who  have 
been  hunting  in  the  woods  will  soon  return,  armed  with  s;>ear  and  bow, 
and  loaded  with  the  game  killed  by  them.  Those  who  have  spent  the 
day  in  fishing  guide  their  boats  homeward  ;  field  laborers,  returning 
from  the  cultivatetl  patches  along  the  shore,  are  seen  to  wend  their 
way  toward  the  l)ridge,  driving  before  thum  the  lowing  cattle  which 
were  permitted  to  graz(;  on  the  land  during  daj-time,  and  an;  now 
to  be  stai)led  for  the-  night  among  the  huts,  safe  from  the  attacks  of 
wolf  and  bear."  * 

Whence  the  lake-dwellers  came,  what  language  they  spoke,  and 
when  they  first  built  their  lacustrine  dwellings,  are  unanswered  (|ues- 
tions.  We  know  that  men  lived  on  these  pile-dwellings  many  centuries 
before  the  discovery  of  bronze.  .\t  some  stations,  only  stone  imple- 
ments are  found  ;  at  c'diers,  bronze  and  iron  arms  and  tools  ov(;rlic 
those  of  stone,  showing  that  these  places  were  the  sites  f)f  dwellings 
during  the  many  ages  which  must  have  elapsed  from  the  neolithic, 
or  recent  stone  age,  through  the  bronze  to  th<;  iron  age. 

Among  the  coins  found  in  the  relics  of  the  pile-dwellings  at  Marin 
is  one  of  Claudius,  which  goes  to  show  that  in  .Switzerland  the  lake- 

*  "  I''„arly  Man  in  luirojje,"  l)y  Charles  Ran.  \  work  giving,  in  the  most  interesting 
manner,  an  account  of  discoveries  relating  to  prehistoric  times. 


Tlic  Prehistoric  Hunter. 


43 


dwellers  were  livinjr  in  their  lacustrine  villa.i,fes  as  late  as  the  first 
century  after  Christ  ;  yet  neither  Ca-sar  nor  Plin\-  mentions  these 
curious  dwellin^rs. 

'I"he  habitations  in  th(;  eastern  lakes  seem  to  In.'lonj^  more  to  the 
stone  aj^e,  while  those  in  the  west  helont^  both  to  the  a^^e  of  stone 
and  of  bronze. 

Among  these  bronze  implements  we  find  axes,  swords,  da,<,fj^fers, 
spear  ami  arrow  heads,  knives,  ciiisels,  sickles,  and  fish-hooks,  which 
are  as  well  adapted  by  their  forms  to  their  uses  as  any  implcnu'nts 
of  the  period  of  bronze.  With  tlie  exception  of  the  cross-bow.  which 
they  do  not  appc;ar  to  have  us(;d,  tlu;ir  arms  were  as  effective 
as  any  which  preceded  the  period  when  L,nmpowder  introduced 
entirely  different  tyjjes  (jf  weapons. 


r;,  Vi': 


HEM 


} 


:-llw«.T!n-»-.-.rn-,...,-,-    .■.-:.,    „. 


J    t 


//.   ntiiii,.-',  iiwasiov/i'ss  as  air, 

X  he  uL:  n  is  my  iiolile  game; 
The  bouttiiiiig  elk\  whose  anileis  tear 

Th'  />raiie/tes,  Jails  be/ore  my  aim. 

—  Ihyant. 


ii 


THE  BLACK  HEAR. 


Bv  CHARLES   C.  WARD. 


THE  black  bear  (  Ursus  Anicricanus)  derives  its  name  from  its  fui, 
which  is  a  rich,  warm,  and  extremely  glossy  jet  black,  excejot 
on  the  muzzle,  where,  beginning  at  the  mouth,  the  hair  is  a 
fawn  color,  which  deepens  into  the  dark  tan  color  of  the  face,  and 
ends  in  rounded  spots  over  each  eye.  These  color-marks  and  its 
peculiarly  convex  facial  outline  are  the  distinguishing  marks  of  the 
species.  The  tan  color  becomes,  with  age,  a  brownish  gray.  The 
largest  black  bear  I  ever  saw  weighed  five  hundred  and  twenty- three 
pounds,  and  measured  six  feet  and  four  inches  from  the  tip  of  the 
nose  to  the  root  of  the  tail.  One  of  this  species  seems  to  possess 
the  power  of  transforming  himself  at  will  into  a  variety  of  shapes. 
When  stretched  out  at  length,  he  appears  very  long ;  when  in  good 
condition,  short  and  stout ;  when  upright,  tall ;  and  when  asleep,  he 
looks  like  a  ball  of  glossy  black  fur.  The  black  bear  of  to-day  may 
be  termed  omnivorous,  inasmuch  as  fish,  flesh,  fowl,  vegetables,  fruit, 
and  insects  are  all  eagerly  devoured  by  him.  He  mates  in  October, 
and  the  period  of  gestation  lasts  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  days. 
Two  to  four  cubs  form  a  litter.  The  cubs  are  always  jet  black,  and 
not  ash  color,  as  some  of  the  older  naturalists  afiirm.  If,  according 
to  Mourens,  the  natural  life  of  an  animal  be  five  times  the  period  of 
its  growth  to  maturity,  1  should  think  that  the  black  bear's  limit  was 
about  twenty  years.  I  knew  of  a  cub  which  increased  in  size  until 
his  fourth  year,  when  he  appeared  to  have  arrived  at  maturity. 

Many  country  people  and  some  experienced  hunters  have  seen, 
as  they  believe,  another  species  of  the  black  bear,  which  they  name 
a  ranger,  or  racer.     He  is  described  as  being  a  longer,  taller,  and 


f  ! 


50 


The  Black  Bear. 


\ 


thinner  animal  than  the  black  bear  proper,  extremely  savage,  and  is 
(.Hstingiiislied  by  a  white  star  or  crescent  on  his  breast.  Marvelous 
tales  are  related  of  his  ruthless  doings,  and  any  act  of  more  than 
ordinary  ferocity  and  daring,  such  as  the  wanton  destruction  of  a 
large  number  of  sheep,  in  daylight,  in  sight  of  the  farm-house,  is 
always  attributed  to  a  ranger.  It  is  also  said  of  him  that  he  never 
hibernates,  but  prowls  about  all  winter,  seeking  what  he  may 
Jevour,  and  keeping  the  farmers  constantly  on  the  alert  to  protect 
their  stock.  I  have  never  had  sufficient  proof  to  warrant  belief  in 
the  e.xistence  of  a  ranger  bear,  but  havt;  occasionally  met  with 
specimens  of  the  black  bear  answering  in  some  points  to  the  above 
description.  I'^or  instance,  I  have  seen  several  black  bears  with 
white  crescents  on  their  breasts.  The  truth  probably  is  that  at 
times,  during  mild  winters,  a  .stray  black  bear  may  be  seen  prowling 
about,  when,  in  accordance  with  all  accepted  ideas  on  the  subject,  he 
should  be  fast  asleep.  This  probable  fact,  and  the  variation  in  size 
and  form  conunon  to  all  animals,  no  doubt  account  for  the  popular 
belief  in  the  existence  of  the  ranger  bear. 

The  time  when  the  black  bear  sc^lects  the  den  in  which  his  long 
winter  nap  is  taken  depends  on  the  openness  or  severity  of  the 
season.  In  any  season,  he  is  seldom  met  abroad  after  the  first  of 
December,  and  he  is  not  seen  again  until  the  first  warm  days  of 
March.  He  does  not  seem  particular  as  to  the  character  of  his  den, 
provided  it  shields  him  from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.  A  retreat 
dug  by  his  powerful  claws  under  the  roots  of  a  windfall,  a  rocky  cave 
on  the  hill-side,  or  a  hollow  log,  if  he  can  find  one  large  enough  to 
admit  him,  will  serve  for  a  winter  home.  When,  he  is  ready  to 
hibernate,  he  is  in  fine  condition  and  his  fur  is  at  its  best.  When  he 
comes  out  in  the  spring,  he  is  in  a  sorry  condition,  and  is  seldom 
molested  unless  he  makes  himself  troublesome  to  farmers.  Numer- 
ous, and  curious  beyond  belief  have  been  the  theories  and  explana- 
tions offered  by  naturalists  to  account  for  the  suspension  of  the 
functions  of  nature  during  hibernation.  An  Indian  whom  I  have 
found  to  be  trustworthy  has  often  called  my  attention  to  fir-trees 
which  had  been  freshly  stripped  of  their  bark,  to  a  distance  of  five  or 
six  feet  from  the  ground,  and  has  told  me  that  it  was  the  work  of 
bears  that  were  after  the  balsam,  large  quantities  of  which,  according 
to  the   Indian,  they  eat  every  autumn  before  going  into  their  dens. 


li 


■'i 


IfKAD    OK    HI.Ai  K     IIKAR     (IKSIS    AMKRICANUs) 
DRAWN   BY  JAMES  C.    BEARD,   AKTKR  A   SKETCH   BY   CHAKLEb  C.   WARU. 


'>M 


1 

I 

» 

1  ■  . 

i. 

»- 

i    r 

I 


The  Hhuk  Bear. 


53 


It  was  his  theory  that  the  balsam  prevcntcil  bodily  waste,  and  that 
when  the  bears  came  out  in  the  sprinj^  they  (Uijjf  up  and  ate  large 
quantities  of  a  root  which  had  the  effect  of  restorinj;-  bodily  functions 
that  iiad  been  suspciniled  durin<,f  the  period  of  hibernation.  The  den 
is  sometimes  revealed  by  a  small  opening  over  the  bear's  placi;  of 
concealment,  where  the  snow  has  been  melted  by  his  breath.  When 
efforts  are  made  to  dislodge  him,  by  makinj^  a  fire  of  bouj,dis  and  moss 
at  the  entrance  to  his  den,  he  will  attempt  to  trample  the  fire  out,  and 
often  succeeds.  He  has,  however,  a  natural  dread  of  fire,  and  at  the 
first  sij^ns  of  a  forest-fire  becomes  j^^reatly  alarmed,  and  Hies  to  the 
open  clearinj^s  and  roadways,  I  once  passed  on  horseback  through 
a  forest-fire  which  was  burning  on  each  side  of  the  road,  and  most  of 
thi;  distance  I  was  accompanied  by  a  large  black  bear,  that  was  fol- 
lowing that  avenue  of  escape. 

It  would  seem  improbable  that  the  young  of  the  black  bear  were 
liable  to  fall  a  prey  to  the  fox  and  black  cat,  or  fisher,  yet  such  is  the 
fact.  This  happens,  of  course,  when  the  cubs  are  very  young  and 
incapable  of  following  their  dam  in  her  siMich  for  food.  The  black 
cat  is  the  most  successful  cub-slayer.  Tin  fox,  notwithstandir;g  his 
proverbial  .sagacity,  is  often  surprised  by  the  return  of  the  bear,  and 
is  killed  before  he  can  escape  from  the  den.  An  Indian  hunter,  who 
knew  of  two  litters  of  cubs  which  he  intended  to  capture  as  soon  as 
they  were  old  enough  to  be  taken  from  their  dam,  was  anticipated  in 
one  case  by  a  black  cat,  and  in  the  other  by  a  fox.  The  latter  paid 
the  penalty  of  his  adventure  with  his  life,  and  was  found  in  the  den 
literally  torn  into  shreds  by  the  furious  bear.  The  fox  had  killed 
one  of  the  cubs,  when  the  old  bear  surprised  and  dispatched  him, 
and  went  off  with  the  two  remaining  cubs.  The  Indian  overtook  and 
slew  her  and  captured  the  cubs.  Upon  another  occasion,  he  was  not 
so  fortunate.  Stimulated  by  the  large  price  offered  b)-  the  officers  of 
a  garrison  town  for  a  pair  of  live  cubs,  he  was  indefatigable  in  his 
endeavors  to  find  a  den.  One  day,  when  accompanied  by  his  little 
son,  a  boy  of  ten,  he  discovered  unmistakable  traces  of  a  bear's  den, 
near  the  top  of  a  hill  strewn  with  granite  bowlders,  and  almost 
impassable  from  the  number  of  fallen  pines.  One  old  pine  had  fallen 
uphill,  and  its  upreared  roots,  with  the  soil  clinging  to  them,  formed, 
with  a  very  large  rock,  a  triangular  space  into  which  the  snow  had 
drifted  to  a  depth  of  ten  or  twelve  feet.  The  Indian  was  about  to 
4A 


1f^ 


t«!i 


^IB 


•  1  *■• 
11' 


54 


7/ic  Black  Bear. 


pass  on,  when  he  detected  the  whininj^  of  h(;ar-cul)s.  My  makinj^  a 
detour,  he  reached  a  place;  on  a  level  with  tlu;  bottom  of  the  bowlder, 
and  tiiere  saw  the  tracks  of  an  old  bear,  l(;adin.i,f  directly  into  the 
center  of  the  space;  between  the  tree-root  and  the  bowlder.  The;  old 
bear,  in  her  comint(s  and  goin5,,rs,  had  tunneled  a  passajj^e  under  the 
snow-drift.  (i(;ltin<r  down  on  his  hands  and  knees,  the  Indian,  with 
iiis  knifi;  held  betwe(;n  his  teeth,  crept,  b(;ar  fashion,  into  the  tunnel. 
,\ft(;r  ent(;r:n<r  sev(;ral  feet,  he  found  the  usual  bear  device — a  path 
brancliinjr  off  in  two  directions.  While  pondc;rinjr  what  t(i  do  under 
such  circumstances,  a  warninjr  cry  came  from  his  little  son,  who  was 
perched  on  the  to|)  of  the  benvlder,  and  the  next  instant  the  old  bear 
rusht;d  into  the  tunnel  and  came  into  violent  contact  with  the  Indian, 
the  shock  causim^^  the  tunnel  to  cave  in.  The  Indian,  aftcjr  d(;alin^ 
the  bear  one  blow,  lost  his  knife  in  the  snow,  anil  seized  th(;  bear 
with  his  hands;  but  she  proved  too  stronj^  for  him,  and  was  th(;  first 
to  strui^Lfl';  out  of  the  drift,  when,  unfortunately,  she  met  the  little 
Indian  boy,  wiio  luul  climbed  down  to  his  father's  rescue.  He 
received  a  trem(;ndous  blow  on  the  thi^h  from  th(;  bear's  paw  as  she 
passed,  which  crippled  him  for  life.  I'Our  days  afterward  the  Indian, 
determined  to  avenge  the  injury  of  his  son  by  slaying  the  old  bear, 
returned  to  the  den  and  discovered  her  lying  dead  upon  the  snow  in 
front  of  the  Ijowlder :  his  one;  blow  had  gone  home;,  and  the  poor 
creature  had  crawl(;d  back  to  her  young  to  die.  The  Indian  dug 
away  the  snow  and  found  three  cubs  that  were  dead  or  dying. 

The  principal  strongholds  of  the  black  bear  at  the  present  day 
are  the  great  forests  of  Maine  and  New  Hrunswick.  My  own  obser- 
vation and  the  reports  of  farmers  lead  me  to  think  that  Bruin  is 
growing  more  carnivorous  and  discontented  with  a  diet  of  herbs. 
Assuredly,  Ik;  is  growing  bolder.  He  is  also  developing  a  propen- 
sity to  destroy  more  than  he  can  eat,  and  it  is  not  improbable  that 
his  posterity  may  cease  to  be;  frugi-carnivorous.  It  is  fortunate  that 
an  animal  of  th(;  strength  and  f(;rocity  which  he  displays  when 
aroused  seldom  attacks  man.  Tht;  formation  of  his  powerful  jaws 
and  terrible  canine  teeth  are  well  adapted  to  s(;ize  and  hold  his  prey, 
and  his  molars  an;  strong  enough  to  crush  the  bones  of  an  ox.  His 
great  strength,  however,  lies  in  his  fore-arms  and  paws.  His  mode 
of  attacking  his  prey  is  not  to  seize  it  with  his  teeth,  but  to  strike 
terrific  blows  with  his  fore-paw. 


The  Black  Bear. 


55 


Bruin's  weakness  is  for  pork,  and  to 
obtain  it  he  will  run  any  risk.  When  the 
farmers,  after  suffering  severe  losses  at 
liis  hands,  become  unusually  alert,  he 
retinis  to  the  depths  of  the  forest  and 


SKI.I.I.    nl     lll.AI  K    rir-.AK. 


solaces    himself   with    a 
caril 


)ou,  or  (leer. 


youni,''    moose, 
■Id 


e  s(-iuom  or  never 


attacks  a  full-^'^rown  moose,  but  traces  of  d(;sperate  encounters,  in 
which  the  cow-moos(.'  has  battled  for  hci  (JffsprinJ,^  an;  fre(|U(:nlly  nul 
with  in  the  woods.  'I'he  av(;rajfe  value  of  a  bear,  includinjr  the 
liouiuy,  is  twenty  dollars.  This  being  the  case,  it  may  appear  sur- 
prising that  larger  numbers  are  not  taken.  Hut  the  black  bear  com- 
bines extreme  cunning  with  great  sagacity,  and  ever\-  \ear  he  seems 
lo  Ik;  g(;tting  more  on  his  guard,  and  suspicious  of  all  devi(:(;s  in- 
tended fr)r  his  ca|jtur(;.  Large,  full-grown 
animals  an;  s(;ldom  killed.  .\  black  bear 
skin,  taki;n  at  the  prcjper  season,  is  not 
<;.\celled  by  any  other  kind  of  fur.  If  prop- 
erly dressed,  it  possesses  great  softness  and 
a  gloss  p(;cidiar  to  itself  The  fur  is  highly 
<;ste(;med  in  luiro])c,  when:  it  is  used  for 
sl(;igh  and  carriage  robes  and  coat  linings 
and  trimmings.  It  is  also  in  much  re(|nest 
in  I'.ngland  and  (jlher  jiarts  of  Muropc,  for  th(;  shak<js  of  certain 
infantry  regiments  and  die;  housings  and  trappings  ofcavalr}'. 

In  lh<;  autumn  of  1H79,  in  the  R(;d  Rock  district.  Province  of 
New  lirunswick,  eiglU(;e-n  b(;ars  w(;re  killed,  only  two  cjf  which  had 
arri\<;d  al  nialurit\- ;  souk;  of  them  wen;  only  yearlings.  ()nl\  ten  or 
lw(;lv(;  setll<:rs  and  tlK;ir  famili(;s  inhabit  tli(;  district,  and  during  that 
\ear  sevenly-thr(;t;  h(;ad  of  stock,  incliiding  slie(;|),  hogs,  and  horned 

cattle,  wen;  destroyed  by  bears.  This  dis 
trict,  situated  on  the  extn;m(;  ou'skirts  of 
civilization,  is  the  b(;ar's  |)ara(ii:,e.  Tlu; 
houses  in  most  cases  an'  built  of  logs,  and 
the  occu|)ants  an;  a  stalwart,  simpk;  race, 
whose  manners  and  customs  carry  you 
back  to  th(;  frontier  life  of  half  a  century 
iiiMMAwv  ago.     They  are  hospitable  to  a  degree  not 


r'lHi.-pAus. 


^1 


;l 


fi 


i 


Ml- 


i 


ut 


.T^' 


V 


I  V' 


{ 


w  \ 


m 


56 


yVte  Black  Bear. 


often  met  with  at  the  present  day.  The  farms  on  which  they  live 
are  clearings  in  the  primeval  forests.  During  a  visit  to  this  district,  I 
had  the  luck,  unexpectedly,  to  see  Bruin  at  home  in  one  of  his  wild- 
est retreats.  North  of  the  settlement  a  range  of  rocky  hills  rises 
perpendicularly  from  the  shores  of  a  forest  lake.  The  hills  are  strewn 
with  gigantic  bowlders,  over  which  the  hunter  must  pick  his  way 
with  no  little  difficulty  and  danger.  Hut  by  that  expert  climber,  the 
black  bear,  such  rugged  ground  is  easily  traversed.  Our  tramp  had 
been  a  long  one,  and  on  our  return  my  Indian  guide  proposed  that 
we  should  cross  the  Red  Rock  hills,  and  thus  save  much  time. 
Great  black  clouds  threatened  an  autumn  storm.  After  much  hard 
climbing,  we  reached  a  place  where  the  whole  hill-side  seemed  riven 
apart.  On  every  side  we  were  surrounded  by  precipices  and  deep 
gulches,  partly  filled  with  great  bowlders  and  sharp  fragments  of 
rocks,  .\lthough  the  dangers  were  not  of  Alpine  magnitude,  they 
might  just  as  well  have  been,  inasmuch,  as  they  were  greater  than  we 
had  any  means  of  overcoming.  In  attempting  to  find  a  way  out,  we 
clambered  along  a  ledge  of  rocks  that  afforded  only  insecure  footing, 
and  gradually  diminished  in  width  until  all  farther  progress  in  that 
direction  became  impracticable.  Retracing  our  ste])s,  almost  in 
despair  of  finding  an  outlet,  we  came  to  a  fissure  in  the  cliff  just  wide 
enough  to  admit  one  at  a  time.  For  a  distance  of  twenty  feet  we 
were  able  to  walk  in  an  upright  position  ;  then  the  passage  narrowed 
rapidly,  and  we  had  to  crawl  upon  our  hands  and  knees  in  almost 
perfect  darkness.  Presently  we  came  to  a  i)lace  whc^re  the  opening 
was  so  low  that,  if  one  attempted  to  straighten  up,  his  back  came  in 
contact  with  a  solid  wall  of  rock  ;  thence  the  passage  took  a  sharp 
downward  pitch,  at  the  bottom  of  which  we  found  a  space  sufficiently 
large  to  permit  us  to  regain  an  upright  position.  The  darkness  was 
now  complete,  and,  not  daring  to  move  for  fear  of  getting  a  fall,  1 
thought  it  prudent  to  return  to  the  ledge,  and  imparted  ni)  intention 
to  the  guide.  I  received  no  reply,  and  called  out  in  a  louder  voice. 
To  m;,  sur])rise,  the  answer  came  in  a  muffled  tone  from  a  locality 
apparently  directly  under  me.  By  this  time  my  eyes  had  become 
accustomed  to  the  gloom,  and  I  detected  a  bluish,  glimmering 
light  on  the  rocky  wall  overhead,  proceeding  from  a  distant  cor- 
ner of  the  space  in  which  I  stood.  Creeping  to  the  source 
of     the    light,     I     found     a    wedge-like    opening,     decreasing     in 


iiH 


The  Black  Bear. 


57 


HEAR   AND  CUBS. 


width  as  it  descended.  While  debating  with  myself  what  to  do 
next,  the  guide's  head  appeared  at  the  bottom  of  the  opening.  He 
called  to  me  to  come  down.  Entering  in  a  recuml)ent  position,  feet 
foremost,  I  slipped  down  and  discovered  that  the  passage  led  into 
another  chamber-like  space,  with  the  difference  that  it  was  in  open 
daylight,  the  sky  being  visibk;  beyond  an  overhanging  ledge  of 
rocks.  The  rocky  platform  was  strewn  with  bones,  and  plentifully 
sprinkled  with  porcupine  (juills.  The  information  of  the  guide  was 
not  needed  \X)  convince  me  that  we  were  in  the  ante-chamber  of  a 
t)ear's  den,  and  that  the  room  ab(.ve  was  the  den  proper.  It  seems 
almost  incredible  that  the  black  bear  should  permit  such  an  offensive 
animal  as  the  porcupint;  to  occu])y  the  same  den  with  him,  but  there 
is  good  reason  to  believe  that  he  sometimes  iloes  so.  .\lthough  it 
was  too  early  in  the  season  for  Hruin  to  si'ek  permanent  winter 
quarters,  I  did  not  feel  at  all  certain  that  he  might  not  pay  occasional 
visits  to  his  den,  and  urged  the  guide  to  get  out  of  the  place  as  soon 
as  possible.  As  there  was  likel\  to  be  more  than  one  entrance  to 
the  den,  we  looked  about  us  and  discovered  that,  i)y  climbing  ov(;r  a 
jutting  ledge  of  rock,  we  should   be  abli?  to  get  upon  a  low(;r  and 


X-X 


r 


,  jt(  .'"■•'r*<iT'*r«*-.''F^»* 


mt 


58 


7Vie  Black  Bcay. 


much  more  extensive  plateau  of  rock  immetliateK  under  the  den. 
We  reached  the  platform  safely,  and,  selecting  a  spot  where  we  were 
sheltered  and  concealed  by  bowlders,  we  called  a  halt  and  lighted 
our  pipes.  A  slight  tap  on  the  shoulder  caused  me  to  turn  around, 
and,  looking  in  the  direction  indicated  b\-  the  guide,  I  saw  a  large 
bear  seated  on  his  haunches  and  looking  intently  at  something. 
I'^arther  awa)-  I  saw  another  bear,  cnjssing  a  chasm  on  an  old  pine- 
log  that  bridged  it;,  and  which  af'^erward  helped  us  out  of  our  dilemma. 
Another  tap  on  the  shoulder,  and  another  surprise  in  store  for  me ; 
for,  up  the  hill-side,  above  the  den,  sat  another  bear  with  his  head 
partly  turned  to  one  side,  and  looking  in  an  incjuiring  manner  at  the 
two  bears  below  him.  By  this  time  the  one  on  the  log  had  nearly 
crossed  over,  and  the  one  sitting  on  his  hauncln^s  growled  frightfully. 
We  were  not  fifty  yards  from  him,  and  he  might  at  an)-  moment  de- 
tect our  presence  ;  fortunately,  we  were;  well  to  leeward  of  him.  \\'e 
had  been  exploring  a  stream  connecting  a  string  of  lakes,  to  exam- 


The  Black  Bcay. 


59 


ine  a  very  extensive  and  perfect  heaver-dani,  and,  not  expecting  to 
hunt,  had  left  our  rifles  at  the  camp.  All  I  had  to  fight  with  was  a 
solid  sketch-book,  while,  by  some  strange  fatality,  the  Indian  had 
in  our  climb  even  lost  his  knife  out  of  its  sheath.     I  was  looking 


THE    BKAR    PASS. 


about  for  some  way  of  escape,  when  I  noticed  that  the  bear  on  the 
hillside  had  vanishetl,  and  the  one  that  crossed  over  on  the  log  had 
moved  toward  the  one  sitting  on  his  haunches.  They  sat  about  ten 
feet  apart,  and  made  the  strangest  noise  I  ever  heard.  Commencing 
with  the  sniff  peculiar  to  the  bear,  the  noise  was  prolonged  into  a 
deep,  guttural  growl,  accompanied  by  a  peculiar  champing  of  the 
jaws.  At  that  moment,  a  large  stone,  evidently  dislodged  by  the 
bear  that  had  vanished  from  the  hill-side,  came  tumbling  down  the 
ravine.  It  struck  on  the  solid  ledge  on  which  we  were  crouching, 
and  broke  into  pieces.  Instinctively  looking  up,  in  apprehension 
that  the  fragment  might  be  the  advance  guard  of  an  avalanche,  we 
lost  sight  of  the  two  bears,  and  never  saw  them  again.     Alarmed  by 


6o 


The  Black  Bear. 


% 


U'-:^^^ 

•^Sl 

1  ^F 

— *ife^         ■'  1 

>,.-■> 

"'"'Tfef^     --^ 

AFTKR   HONEY. 


the  falling  stone,  they  had  swiftl)-  and  stealthily  gone  away.  The 
guide  said  that  the  two  bears  which  were  on  the  ledge  with  us  were 
males,  and  that,  as  it  was  the  pairing  season,  the  growling  we  were 
treated  to  was  merely  the  preliminary  of  a  terrible  fight.  During 
the  pairing  season,  the  males  congregate  in  bands  and  scour  the 
forest,  growling,  snarling,  and  fighting.  On  such  occasions,  all  pru- 
dent hunters  avoid  an  encounter  with  them.  The  females  are  savage 
when  suckling  their  young,  and  will  fight  to  the  death  in  their  pro- 
tection. At  all  other  seasons,  both  males  and  females  avoid  a  meet- 
ing with  human  beings,  but  if  attacked  and  wounded,  or  brought  to 
bay,  the  black  bear  is  a  foe  to  be  dreaded.  Their  keen  scent  and 
acute  hearing  enable  them  to  detect  the  approach  of  an  enemy,  and 
to  keep  out  of  his  way. 

Sometimes  the  black  bear  is  hunted  with  dogs  trained  for  the 
purpose.  The  dogs  are  not  taught  to  seize  the  game,  but  to  nip  his 
heels,  yelp  around  him,  and  retard  his  progress  until  the  hunters  come 
up  and  dispatch  him  with  their  rifles.  Common  yelping  curs  pos- 
sessed of  the  requisite  pluck  are  best  adapted  for  the  purpose. 
Large  dogs  with  sufficient  courage  to  .seize  a  bear  would  have  but 
a  small  chance  with  him,  for  he  could  disable  them  with  one  blow  of 
his  powerful  paw.     Another  way  of  hunting  is  to  track   Bruin  to  his 


The  Black  Bear. 


6i 


of 
lis 


i 


winter  den,  and  either  smoke  or  dig  him  out,  when  he  may  be  dis- 
patched by  a  blow  on  the  head  with  the  poll  of  an  ax  as  he  struggles 
out.  Various  kinds  of  traps,  set-guns,  and  dead-falls  are  also  em- 
ployed against  him.  A  very  efficient  means  of  capture  is  a  steel  trap, 
with  double  springs  so  powerful  that  a  lever  is  necessary  in  setting  it. 


A    DEAD-KAI.I.    TRAP. 


The  trap  is  placed  in  runs  or  pathways  known  to  be  frequented  by 
bears,  and  concealed,  care  being  taken  not  to  handle  the  trap.  A 
stout  chain,  with  a  grapnel  or  a  large  block  of  wood  attached,  is  fast- 
ened to  the  trap.  Even  with  this  an  old  bear  often  manages  to 
escape  altogether,  his  sagacity  teaching  him  to  return  and  liberate  the 
grapnel  or  block  whenever  it  catches  upon  anything  and  checks  him. 
He  dies  eventually,  of  course,  if  unable  to  free  himself  from  the  trap, 
but  in  some  cases  he  has  been  known  to  gnaw  off"  a  part  of  his  paw 
and  leave  it  in  the  trap.  This  mode  of  capture  is  open  to  the  charge 
of  cruelty,  as  the  bear  is  usually  caught  by  a  paw,  and  sometimes  by 
the  snout,  and  the  injury  not  being  immediately  fatal,  the  animal 
nay  die  a  lingering  death  of  great  agony.  The  set-gun,  if  properly 
arranged,  kills  the  bear  instantly.  The  gun  is  placed  in  a  horizontal 
position,  about  on  a  level  with  a  bear's  height ;  one  end  of  a  cord  is 
fastened  to  the  trigger  and  brought  forward  in  such  a  way  that  when 


i 


6a 


The  Black  Bear. 


the  bait  is  attached  to  the  other  end  of  the  cord  it  hanj^s  over  the 
muzzle  of  the  gun,  and  the  least  pull  on  the  bait  discha»-ges  the  gun, 
which  is  protected  from  the  weather  by  a  screen  of  bark.  The  ordi- 
ary  dead-fall  consists  of  a  numljer  of  stout  poles  driven  in  the 
^;iound  in  the  form  of  a  U.  in  front  of  the  opening  is  placed  a 
h^Livy  log.  The  bait  is  suspended  from  a  string  within  tiie  inclos- 
ur  so  that  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  bear  to  place  his  fore  legs 
ovt:  the  log  in  order  to  reach  it.  The  string  has  connection  with  a 
piec  of  wooil  which  props  uj)  the  J.ead-falJ,  consisting  of  a  luavy  log 
of  be.ch  or  bircli  timi)er  weighted  with  other  logs.  When  tlu-  bear 
pulls  t  ihc!  bait,  the  prop  is  drawn  from  under  the  heavy  timber, 
which  alls  across  iiis  back.  It  sometimes  happens  that  the  hunter, 
to  his  liscomfort,  fmds  that  his  dead-fall  has  prov(;d  fatal  to  one  of 
his  own  or  his  neiglibor's  cattle. 

In  tile  autumn,  bear-hunters  take  advantage  of  Hruin's  known 
partiality  for  raspberries,  blackberries,  and  blueberries,  and  set  traps 
and  dead-falls  in  thi'  approaches  to  the  patches,  lie  also  fre<|uents 
the  beech- forests,  and  his  expertness  as  a  climber  enables  him  to 
obtain  the  rich  mast,  on  which  he  grows  corpulent.  In  the  spring, 
when  he  first  comes  from  his  win-  _ 
ter  (juartc;rs,  he  feasts  upon  the 
ants  antl  grubs  he  discovers  b\ 
industrious  digging,  or  l)y  turn 
ing  over  decayed  logs.  Later  in 
the  season,  when  tiie  luirrings 
and  alewives  run  up  the  streams 
to  spawn,  Bruin  turns  fisherman, 
and  captures  the  fish  by  inter- 
cepting them  as  they  pass  over 
shallow  places,  and  scooping  th<.'m  out  with  his  paws.  His  taste  for 
pork  and  molasses  and  such  delicacies  often  encourages  him  to  visit 
the  camps  of  lumbermen,  where  In-  sometimes  makes  sad  havoc. 

if  captur(;d  when  very  young  and  carefully  trained,  the  black  bear 
becomes  tame,  but  1  iloubt  if  he  ought  to  be  trusted  as  a  pet  M\ 
own  efforts  to  tame  young  bears  have  not  always  proved  successful. 
It  is  unpleasant,  on  returning  from  a  journey,  to  find  your  house  sur- 
rounded by  the  neighbors  armed  with  old  muskets  and  pitchforks, 
the  windows  broken,  the  gardens  troddt^n  down,  your  family  impris- 


I: 


The  Black  Bear. 


63 


SACKINli   A    I.U.MllKU   UAMl'. 


oncd  in  the  cliniiij^r-room,  and  to  be  told  l)y  jour  man-servant,  who 
has  prudently  kept  outside  of  the  house,  that  the  pet  bear,  in  a  state 
of  ferocity,  is  in  possession.  Nevertheless,  if  one  is  \villini,r  to  endure 
that  sort  of  thinjr,  a  vast  amount  of  amusement  can  be  \ha  out  ol  a 
tame  bear. 

I  really  think  that  IJruin  possesses  the  s(;nse  of  humor  ;  at  ail 
events,  his  actions  |)oint  that  way,  antl  there  is  no  doubt  that  he  is 
extremely  cunning  and  observing.  1  once  had  an  l-Jiirlish  friend 
visitinij  me,  who  played  the  flute.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  marchinjj;' 
up  and  down,  while  playin_<r.  near  a  tame  bear  1  had  at  the  time. 
The  bear  had  a  piece  of  stick  about  two  feet  lonjr,  which  he  tossed 
about  for  amusement.  After  a  time,  he  came  to  handle  the  stick 
very  much  as  my  friend  did  his  flute.  This  annoyed  my  sensitive 
trii-ntl,  and  in  revenj^i-  he  teased  the  bear  with  uncouth  noises.  Hruin 
sniffed    and  whined,   and   waited    his    opportunity    for    delivering    a 


The  Black  Bear. 


tremendous  blow  with  his  paw  at  his  enemy,  whose  tall  hat  waa 
knocked  completely  over  his  eyes.  He  escaped  being  scalped  by 
dropping  flat  and  rolling  out  of  the  reach  of  the  bear.  This  bear 
spent  much  of  his  time  in  the  tree  to  which  he  was  chained,  and 
when  climbing  usually  got  his  chain  twisted  over  and  under  the 
branches  in  a  most  intricate  manner,  but  never  failed  to  take  out 
everj-  turn  as  he  descended.  A  friend,  who  owned  a  tame  bear,  told 
me  that,  for  a  long  time,  he  could  not  account  for  the  mysterious  way 
in  which  the  poultry  disappeared.  Observing,  at  different  times,  a 
good  many  feathers  around  Bruin's  pole,  he  began  to  suspect  that  the 
bear  was  the  culprit.  Close  watching  confirmed  his  suspicions. 
When  Bruin  thought  he  was  unobserved,  he  would  seize  any  unfort- 
unate hen  or  chicken  within  his  reach  and  devour  it ;  but  if  any  one 
approached  before  he  could  complete  the  meal,  he  would  sit  upon  his 
prey  until  the  danger  of  discovery  had  passed.  He  was  betrayed, 
at  last,  by  the  cackling  of  an  old  hen  that  he  had  failed  to  silence. 


Rl-.AR-Hl  NTINC;    IN    THH    SOUTH. 


Ilv  JAM  I'.S   (lORPON. 


FROM  iny  youth,  lx;ar-huntinjf  has  been  to  iik.-  a  fascinatiiit,' 
sport,  and,  after  an  experience  of  more  than  thirty  years  in 
all  kinds  of  Southern  sports,  durinjj;  which  I  have  seldom 
failed  to  spend  a  portion  of  the  winter  camp-huntinjf  in  the  Missis- 
sippi bottom,  I  think  I  may  venture  to  relate  one  of  my  bear-hunts, 
and  ,<,nve  the  inexperienced  sportsman  some  idea  of  the  characteris- 
tics of  the  bear. 

We  had  pitched  our  tent  on  the  banks  of  a  beautiful  sheet  of 
water,  one  of  the  chain  of  lakes  that  drains  the  swamps  of  Tunica 
County,  Mississippi,  when  the  Father  of  Waters  inundates  the  val- 
leys. Throug^h  these  lakes  and  the  bayous  leading  from  them  the 
annual  overflows  are  carried  off  into  the  Coldvvater,  Tallahatchie,  and 
Sunflower  rivers,  thence  into  the  Yazoo,  and  back  into  the  Mississippi. 

Besides  old  Hannibal,  a  negro  servant,  there  were  only  four  of 
us  in  camp.  One  was  a  professional  hunter,  two  were  cotton-plant- 
ers and  experienced  hunters  —  not  simply  sportsmen  who  occasion- 
ally spent  a  day  of  recreation  in  quail-shooting  over  a  brace  of 
pointers,  but  hunters  who  had  studied  wood-craft  until  it  seemed  like 
instinct  to  thread  their  way  through  the  wilderness  by  day  or  night, 
without  other  compass  than  the  moss  on  the  north  side  of  the  trees. 

When  a  novice  in  wood-craft  joins  a  party  of  old  hunters,  he  is 
often  subjected  to  many  a  practical  joke ;  although,  at  the  same  time, 
old  hunters  are  very  generous  in  imparting  information  or  in  rescu- 
ing him  from  danger.  On  this  occasion,  the  target  of  our  jokes  was 
James  Rogers,  a  fair-haired  Northerner  from  "old  I-ong  Island's  sea- 
girt shore,"  an  enthusiastic  sportsman,  a  crack  shot  at   pigeons,  but 

5  '"'5 


ir 


66 


Rcaf-llimtiiii:^  in  the  South. 


in  our  sixtion  almost  as  hclplt-ss  as  a  l)alH.', —  the  o|)|)ositr,  in  ivcry 
ri;s|)cct,  of  our  backwoods  hunter,  wiiosi;  pen-portrait  I  will  emlcavor 
to  \(\\v.  Wsnw^  l)y  hunting  and  trapping  from  hoyhooil,  an  uncclu- 
catcii  frontiersman,  he;  was  the  beau  iih-ti/  oi  a  hunter — chul  in  huck- 
skin  hunting-siiirt  ami  lej^^ins,  with  an  otter-skin  cap  on  his  heail 
and  a  'coon-skin  p»)ucii  in  wiiich  he  carrieil  iiis  ammunition  swunuj 
across  his  shouUk;rs,  and  a  short  rille  in  his  hanil ;  about  five  feet 
ten  inches  tall,  round-boilied,  but  with  no  surplus  (lesh,  and  with 
muscles  like  corded  steel.  His  hair  was  steil  i^ray  and  inclinetl  to 
curl  where  it  fell  below  the  tem|<les.  Mis  features  were  regular,  and 
by  lonj^  exposure  to  sun,  rain,  and  miasma  were  wrinkleil  and 
bronzed ;  but,  clear  and  brilliant  throuifh  a  complexion  like  a  tanned 
alligator-skin,  sparkled  a  pair  of  merry  blue  eyes  that  indicati-d  a 
soul  as  tray  and  free  as  the  wilil  woods  he  lovetl  so  well.  All  through 
the  swamps  he  was  known  as  "Old  Asa,  the  bear-hunter."  The  two 
planters  were  Major  I  )uncan  and  myself. 

When  okl  Asa  sounded  his  horn,  about  twenty-five;  doo;s  of  all 
descriptions  jrathered  around  him ;  like  their  master  they  were 
trained  hunters,  and  many  bore  the  marks  of  Bruin's  claws.  If  you 
should  ask  the  petlijrrce  of  old  Uearjrreasc-  or  Bravo,  the  two  most 
noted  leaders  of  the;  pack,  1  shouki  be  ciMiipelied  to  ailmit  that  the 
\  ilest  monijrel  strains  coursed  through  their  veins.  I'or  there  is  no 
certainty  in  breedinjr  them:  often  the  most  "or'nar)  '-looking  cur 
makes  the  best  bear-dog.  On  my  annual  expeilitions  to  the  swamps, 
I  was  accustomed  to  buy,  borrow,  and  "persuade"  to  follow,  every 
specimen  of  the  canine  race  I  could  pick  up;  and  if  out  of  a  dozen  1 
secured  one  who  "took  to  bear,"  I  was  lucky. 

A  bear-pack  requires  dogs  of  various  sizes.  A  {i^w  rough-haired 
terriers,  active  and  plucky,  that  can  fight  close  to  liruin's  nose  and 
dodge  under  the  cane  when  pursued  ;  some  medium-sized  dogs  to 
fight  on  all  sides,  and  a  few  large,  active  curs  to  pinch  his  hind- 
quarters when  he  charges  in  front  or  crosses  an  opening  in  ilu 
woods.  Bear-dogs  must  fight  clo.se,  but  not  attempt  to  hoi  I  a  '  oar; 
you  want  them  to  hang  on  but  not  to  hold  fast.     A  well  ,  pack 

will  only  seize  hold  at  the  same  time  when  one  of  th<  umber  is 

caught;  then  they  boldly  charge  to  the  rescue  of  their  t(  i  ide,  and 
as  soon  as  he  is  freed,  loose  their  holds  and  run.  Then  gath«  ^n\f 
around  the  bear  again,  they  worry  him  until  he  climbs  a  tree,  where 


:^iiL. 


Bciif-l hinting  in  the  Sont/i. 


67 


he:  falls  an  easy  prey  to  the   hunter.     The  hunter  never  cheers   his 
pack  luiless  he  is  in  trouble  anil  wants  their  assistance. 


IN    iiir.    I oRKsr. 


The  bear  usually  makes  his  bed  in  the  most  impenetrable  cane- 
brake.  He  cuts  and  piles  up  heaps  of  cane  until  he  has  a  comtorl- 
able  sprinjf  mattress.  He  is  very  fastidious  in  his  taste,  and  will 
not  remain  in  a  wet  bed  ;  so,  after  every  spell  of  bad  weather,  he 
chanj^^es  his  ([uarters.  In  diet  \\v.  has  a  wide,  almost  omniverous 
taste.  In  die  summer,  he  is  ver)-  dc!structive  to  th(-  farmer's  corn- 
tk'lds,  showing-  a  decided  relish  ior  ^reen  corn  or  roastini;-  ears,  or  fat 
pi^-  or  mutton  as  a  side-dish,  not  refusing'  a  pumpkin  by  way  ol  tles- 
sert.  As  the  fall  season  approaches,  he  climbs  after  the  wikl  scrape, 
the  succulent  muscadine,  the  acorn,  and  the  persimmon,  and  leaves 
his  siirn  everywhere  lie  travels,  in  hea|)s  of  hulls  of  pecan  anil  scaly- 
bark  hickory  nuts.  This  is  called  the  lappinj^  season,  as  he  en- 
sconces himself  in  a  tree-lap  and  breaks  the  limbs  to  pieces,  in 
jrathering  nuts  and  fruits.  He  is  also  excessively  fond  of  honey,  and 
is  utterly  rejj^ardless  of  bee-stin«,fs  while  tearing  to  pieces  a  nest  of 
\*  'M  bees  from  a  hollow  tr(;e. 


11 


!il;l 


ifi 


68 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  South. 


l: 


Hunters  sonictimcs  entrap  him  by  placing  in  liis  patli  a  vess(,'l 
containing  wliisky  made  very  sweet  with  honey.  Bruin  is  easily  in- 
toxicated, and  very  human  in  his  ilrunken  antics.  I  have  seen  liim 
kilUxl  by  negroes  while  lying  helpless  upon  his  back  catching  at  the 
clouds;  but  such  slaughter  is  unsportsmanlike,  and  no  true  himter 
would  resort  to  it. 

P)Ut  old  Asa  and  the  dogs  are  off  down  the  lake-sule,  and  we  fol- 
low in  single  file. 

Here,  indeed,  is  the  hunter's  paradise.  Mocks  of  mallard,  teal, 
and  wild  duck,  covering  acres  of  surface-,  are  floating  lazily  u|){)n  the 
limpid  water  ;  on  the  other  side,  a  doze  i  swans  are  graccfull)-  glid- 
ing along.  .\  flock  of  ungainly  pelicans,  with  their  huge  mandibles 
scooping  after  minnows,  waddle  al)out  the  opposite  shore.  The  wild 
goose  is  heard  overhead,  while  the  sentinel  of  the  flock  on  the  water 
replies.  The  while  aiul  blue  crane-,  motionless  as  the  sentinels  of 
Pompeii,  line  the  shore.  The  tall  cypressits  in  the  lake,  with  their 
fringed  foliage,  lift  their  weinl  knctes  out  of  the  water  and  look 
lonely  and  desolate  ;  while  the  oaks  and  gums  upon  the  shore,  drapetl 
in  clinging  vines,  fc:stooned  wi'h  moss,  and  reflected  in  the  lake,  add 
to  the  somber  picture  of  the  wilderness.  The  sycamores  an'.'  cotton- 
woods  are  of  immense  size,  some  being  ten  feet  in  diameter. 


■>-:*r,y- 


^^ 


,♦*• 


.*  »^ 


■    y. 


.■■».' 


lie* 


.V.  -*  '  *  *  ' 


*****  '  j^AtMl^i~      .-^^ 


!  i 


i 


iol- 


i  ■ 


Bcai'-I liiiitiiig  ill  the  South. 


69 


Olil  Asa  tiinunl  fVom  tin;  lake  and  i)i)ldly  cnUMX'd  a  canchrakc,  wc 
tollouiiii;'.  licrc  the  ibrcinost  horse  has  the  hardest  time,  for  he 
imist  hreak  the  way  tor  the  rest  through  cane  ami  ])aml)oo-\ines. 
Old  Asas  hors(,',  however,  like  liis  master,  was  a  trained  hunter,  and 
would  wait  the  stroke  of  the  hunting-knife  which  cut  tlu;  vines,  to 
push  on  ihrouj^h  th.e  tangled  mass.  Going  through  cane,  ever\'  one 
is  re([uired  to  take  the  cartridge  from  his  gun  ;  or,  if  he  has  a  muzzle- 
loader,  to  take  the  cap  from  the  tube. 


A  iii'Nir.n's    TARAnisr. 

.\fler  crossing  a  can<'l)rake  ridge  of  half  a  mile,  we  I'ntered  a 
large,  open  wootl,  where  wc;  found  a  (]uantity  of  overcup  acorn  mast, 
upon  which  hear  and  deer  feet!  during  iiie  winter  months.  ruder 
the  liml)  of  a  i)awpaw  we  saw  a  fresh  buck-scrape.  '!"his  is  made 
li\-  the  male  deer,  while  scratching  his  antlers  amid  the  branilv.'s 
ahoxc;  he  scrapes  the  earth  with  his  feet,  ;is  a  sign  for  his  tawny 
mate.  .\  little  farther  on,  within  easy  range,  we  startled  thcanllered 
monarcli  from  his  lair;  Init  not  a  gun  was  raisi'd  to  arrest  his  llight. 
As  the  deer  lifteil  his  white   llag   and   hounded  off,  the  Nounger  ilogs 


pric 
fortl 


ked 


111) 


vir  ears 


anil 


loo 


1  m   lull  cr\ 


II 


iiut  a  worn   m 


ked   an.xiousl)-  forward,  read)   to  burst 
a  harsh  tone   from   old  .Asa  caused 


IB 


!fn 


■■■■ 


li 


i 


1 1 


70 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  South. 


■r^T^ 


% 

■::ui 

^1 

1 

fili,, 

,•■»  3> 

fv    ■ 

/iM^- 

V',^  '^^ 

■f  i., 

'■i  ;vi: 

I?.'-. 

'J^^s^' , 

J  r 

\p " 

^%i'j' 

^ 

^^^■- 

■  -  •*''i 

'  '-''H'.S-. 

*  ^^  ■ 

Ht/.'*'  *> 

/ 

(     a 

f-t'^ 

,  Cf    «d'    It 

; 

V 

m^- 


M  ./ 


.>  '    /     .' 


'^r      i    ^^    . 


SV 


.(|n^|4]| 


(II.U  ASA   CUTTING   THR<JUGH   THK   CANKUKAKE. 


them  to  fall  to  the  rear.  "  This  is  a  bear-hunt,  and  these  are  bear- 
dogs,"  said  Asa,  and  we  understood  that  no  other  iranu;  must  be 
shot  before  them.  On  rainy  days,  we  go  out  from  camp,  singly,  and 
"  still-hunt  "  for  deer;  for  then  they  are  easily  found,  as  they  avoid 
the  wet  cane  and  ((md  in  the  open  woods. 

"  Here's  a  b'ar  sign  !"  exclaimed  Asa,  as  he  pointed  to  the  foot 
of  a  large  overcup  acorn  tree.  |ust  then,  a  sound  that  viiirates 
through  the  hunter's  heart  with  a  thrill  of  pleasurable  emotion  fell 
upon  our  ears.  Of  our  pack  of  dogs  only  the  reliable  hunters, 
such  as  Hravo  and  Heargrease,  are  allo\vc:d  full  liberty  in  rang- 
ing the  woods.  There  was  the  sound  again  !  Bravo  had  struck 
a    trail !      Hvery   dog    rushed    forward    at    the    well-known    signal 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  South. 


of  their  leader  ;  but  the  track  was  cold,  and  every  nose  was  busy 
smelling  among  the  leaves,  trying  to  unravel  its  mystic  wind- 
ings. We  rode  slowly  along ;  old  Beargrease  made  a  circle,  and 
struck  the  trail  farther  ahead.  The  old  dog  seemed  to  know  he 
had  solved  the  problem  this  time,  for,  sitting  upon  his  haunches, 
he  raised  his  head,  and  uttered  his  prolonged  cry — which  was  to 
us  a  note  of  exquisite  joy.  Bravo,  Granger,  and  twenty  more 
joined  in  the  chorus,  and  slowly,  but  surely  and  steadily,  they 
moved  along  on  the  trail.  "  More  sign ! "  shouted  old  Asa, 
presently ;  "  here's  his  stepping-path,"  and  he  pointed  to  a  path 
made  by  the  bear  as  he  passed  to  and  fro  from  the  canebrake. 
Here  he  explained  to  Rogers  that  the  path  was  made  by  a  habit  the 
bear  has  of  always  putting  his  feet  in  precisely  the  same  tracks  ;  this 
habit  is  often  taken  advantage  of,  and  a  trap  is  set  in  his  path,  or  a 
gun  is  placed  so  as  to  kill  or  mortally  wound  him. 

"And  this  one,  I  can  see  by  his  signs,  is  a  big  fat  old  he,"  added 
old  Asa. 

"  Now,  look  here,  old  fellow,"  replied  Rogers,  "  don't  test  my 
credulity  too  far.  I  would  like  to  know  how  you  can  tell  a  fat  bear 
from  a  lean  bear,  or  a  he  bear  from  a  she  bear,  when  you  have 
never  seen  it." 

"  Little  boy,"  replied  Asa,  while  a  benevolent  expression  mocked 
the  gay  humor  in  his  clear  blue  eye,  "  your  education  has  been  sadly 
neglected  ;  book-l'arnin'  may  be  very  useful  in  town,  but  one  grain 
of  common  sense  is  worth  a  bushel  of  college  diplomas  in  the  swamps. 
Now  listen  and  I'arn  wisdom  ;  I  know  this  is  a  fat  b'ar,  because  his 
hind  toe  marks  do  not  reach  the  fore  ones ;  had  he  been  poor,  they 
would  well-nigh  have  overlapped." 

"  But  how  do  you  know  it  is  a  he  bear,  and  a  big  he  besides  ?  " 

"  The  Lord  pity  your  ignorance,  child  !  don't  you  see  whar  he 
writ  it  up  on  that  hackberry  ?  " 

"  Well,"  replied  Roger,  "  you  will  have  to  interpret  it ;  I  can  see 
nothing  but  meaningless  scratches  up  there  on  the  tree ;  what  do 
you  make  of  it  ?  " 

"  Look  close,"  replied  Asa.  "  and  you  will  see  the  tallest  marks 
are  the  freshest;  a  young  b'ar,  feeling  very  large  all  by  himself, 
wrote  his  name  thar  first ;  the  way  he  does  it,  he  places  his  back 
ag'in'  the  tree  and,  turning  his  head,  bites  the  bark  as  high  as  he  can 


72 


Bear-Hunting  in  the  South. 


BKAR    IllKKOCr.Yl'llK.S. 


reach,  which  means,  in  b'ar  hngo,  '  I'm  boss  of  the  woods — beware 
how  you  trespass  on  my  domains.'  The  next  b'ar  that  comes  along 
takes  the  same  position  and  tries  to  outreach  the  first.  Now,  this  old 
fellow  has  written  in  b'ar  hi'roglyphics  a  foot  higher,  '  Mind  your 
eye,  young  un,  you're  a  very  small  potato ;  I'm  the  boss  that  claims 
preemption  rights  to  these  pastures.'  Another  reason  for  knowing 
it's  a  he  b'ar  is  that  the  she's  have  young  about  the  third  week  in 
January,  and  it's  about  that  time.  We  hunt  them  in  February  bj- 
examining  the  cypress-trees,  where  they  have  left  their  marks  climb- 
ing to  their  dens.  The  young  ones^  when  first  born,  are  not  larger 
than  a  rat." 

"  I  have  read  that  the  bear  was  a  hibernating  animal  ;  how  about 
that  ?  "  asked  Rogers. 

"The  b'ar  becomes  ver;  fat  in  winter,"  said  Asa,  "and  his 
insides  are  so  covered  with  fat  •  lat  he  has  no  room  for  food  ;  in  a 
cold  climate  he  would  lie  up,  but  here  he  is  temi^ted  by  the  mild 
winters  to  keep  traveling  around." 

While  old  Asa  was  giving  our  city  friend  this  bit  of  natural 
history,   the  dogs  were  busy  at  work  on   the    trail ;    the  track  was 


Bear-Hunting  in  the  South. 


n 


tTowing  warmer.  Suddenly  they  all  dashed  into  the  cane,  when, 
10 hew  !  —  with  a  snort  and  crash  through  the  cane,  as  if  all  the  fiends 
had  broken  loose  from  Tartarus,  the  bear  was  started  from  his  lair. 
With  a  wild  yell,  we  all  followed,  pell-mell,  in  pursuit.  For  a  mile 
or  more  the  bear  seemed  to  gain  upon  his  pursuers  ;  but,  like  a  relent- 
less fate,  the  fierce  pack  stuck  to  his  heels,  while  the  hunters  were 
slowly  cutting  their  way  through  the  cane.  Old  Asa  led  the  way, 
with  that  intuition  which  belongs  to  the  practiced  woodsman  and 
aids  him  in  avoiding  the  heaviest  canebrakes. 

Reaching  a  boggy  bayou,  we  paused  to  listen  for  the  pack.  The 
baying  of  dogs  underneath  the  heavy  cane  cannot  be  heard  at  a 
great  distance ;  and,  as  we  halted  on  our  horses,  we  could  hear  no 
sound  but  the  melancholy  soughing  of  the  winds  through  the  lonely 
cypress.  Old  Asa  leaped  from  his  horse,  and,  telling  us  to  keep 
silent,  knelt  and  placed  his  ear  close  to  the  ground.  For  a  few 
moments  the  silence  was  almost  painful.  Then  springing  to  his  feet, 
he  exclaimed : 

"All  right,  boys!  The  b'ar  has  turned  toward  camp;  I  heard 
them  distinctly ;   they  are  fighting  very  close." 

"  How  will  we  cross  the  bayou  ? "  asked  Rogers.  "  It  would  bog 
a  saddle-blanket  here." 

"  r^ollow  me,  young  un,"  said  old  Asa,  "and  I'll  I'arn  you  what 
)Our  school-master  never  did — how  to  cross  a  boggy  bayou." 

Then  proceeding  up  the  bayou,  he  selected  a  spot  where  the 
cypress-knees  were  thickest,  and  led  the  way  safel)'  across ;  then 
pushing  rapidly  forward,  flanking  the  canebrake  and  keeping  to  the 
open  woods,  after  a  detour  of  a  mile  we  were  again  in  hearing  of  the 
pack. 

"He  has  turned  back !"  shouted  old  .Asa.  ".Scatter  out  across 
the  opening  and  some  of  us  will  get  a  shot !  " 

We  promptly  ol^eyed  the  order,  and  soon  heard  them  coming, 
crashing  madly  through  the  canebrake.  Presently  out  jumped 
the  bear  near  Major  Duncan's  stand,  with  the  dogs  pressing  him 
like  a  legion  of  fiiries.  .As  the  major  attempted  to  shoot,  his  horse 
wheeled,  and  before  he  coulil  turn,  the  b(!ar  had  seen  him  and 
turned  back  into  the  cane,  preferring  a  score  of  dogs  to  one  hunter; 
going  farther  down  the  cane,  he  again  burst  into  the  opening  and 
crossed  close  to  Rogers,  who  had  dismounted  and  was  standing  by 


'i 


fm 


74  Bear-Htuitiug  in  the  South. 

a  fallen  tree.  As  the  bear  leaped  the  log,  Rogers  fired.  Although 
a  bear  is  a  large  animal,  yet  when  he  is  running  he  is  not  so  good  a 
target  as  one  would  think.  If  the  reader  will  attempt  to  put  a  ball 
through  the  center  of  a  barrel-head  while  it  is  in  rapid  motion  he  will 
have  some  idea  of  shooting  at  a  running  bear.  Rogers  missed,  but 
the  dogs,  encouraged  by  the  report  of  his  gun,  attacked  with  renewed 
vigor.  Across  the  open  woods,  in  plain  view,  we  beheld  a  grand 
sight.  As  the  dogs  charged  at  the  report  of  Rogers's  gini.  Rocket,  a 
large,  active  fellow  (a  cross  between  a  mastiff  and  a  greyhound), 
seeing  the  way  clear,  made  a  dash,  and  catching  one  of  the  bear's 
hind  feet,  tripped  him  so  adroitly  that  he  rolled  over  on  his  back, 
and  before  he  could  recover  was  covered  with  dogs.  But  a  sweep  of 
his  huge  paws  scattered  his  foes  in  every  direction.  .\  few  leaps  and 
he  again  reached  the  canebrake,  and  soon  we  heard  the  dogs  at  bay. 
We  dismounted,  hitched  our  horses,  and  proceeded  on  foot  to  the 
scene  of  action.  Hut  it  was  slow  work,  for  the  bear  always  seeks  the 
heaviest  canebrake  for  his  battle-ground.  We  had  to  creep  and 
crawl,  sometimes  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  under  the  tangled  mass 
of  cane  and  vines,  often  having  to  use  our  hunting-knives  in  disen- 
tangling ourselves. 

Except  old  Asa.  who  carried  a  rifle,  we  were  all  armed  with 
short,  double-barrel  shot-guns,  loaded  with  buck  and  ball.  This,  in 
mj-  judgment,  is  the  most  effective  weapon  for  bears,  as  they  are 
generally  shot  in  a  tree  or  on  the  ground  at  close  quarters  ;  and 
after  the  labors  of  a  bear-chase  the  nerves  are  apt  to  be  a  little  shaky 
for  drawing  a  fine  bead  with  a  rifle. 

Cutting  our  way  through  the  mass  of  cane,  we  reached  the  outer 
circle  of  dogs  and  beheld  the  bear  sitting  with  his  back  against  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  his  fore  paws  just  touching  the  toes  of  his  hind  ones 
as  they  projected  up  in  front  of  him.  Thus,  with  his  rear  protected, 
he  stood  at  ba\-,  occasionally  making  a  rush  for  a  dog  who  had  vent- 
ured too  near,  and  when  he  had  scattered  his  foes,  returning  to  his 
position,  pressed  again  in  turn  b)-  the  dogs  he  had  pursued.  It  was 
a  splendid  picture  —  the  huge  beast,  shaggy  and  grim,  with  the  white 
froth  dripjiing  from  his  red  lips  and  lolling  tongue,  beset  on  every 
side,  fighting  a  host,  relying  alone  upon  tlie  strength  of  his  mighty 
arm  to  keep  his  foes  at  bay.  At  length,  greatly  worried,  he  resolved 
to    do   what   a    large,    fat    bear    greatly   dislikes,    viz..    take   a   tree. 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  South. 


75 


Making-  a  rush,  as  a  feint  to  scatter  his  enemies,  he  sprang-  u|)  into 
an  oak  and  seated  liimself  in  a  fork  about  twenty  feet  from  the 
_i;rountl. 

By  this  time  my  c(Mnj)anions  had  arrived,  and  it  was  acj^reed  that 
Rogers,  who  had  nciver  killed  a  hear,  shoulil  iiavc  the  shot.  He  took 
his  position  in  front  of  the;  tree  and  attempted  to  ^et  a  siyht  at  the 
bear's  head  ;  but  a  bear's  head  is  a  bad  target,  us  it  is  in  constant 
motion,  and  the  frontal  l)ones  are  so  shar])  and  hard  that,  unless  the 
hunter  makes  a  center  shot,  the  ball  will  glance  and  do  but  little 
harm;  moreover,  when  wounded,  however  slij'j'htly,  the  bear  is  almost 
sure  to  abandon  the  tree.  .At  the  report  of  Roj^ers's  j^un,  though 
slightly  stunned  by  the  glancing  ball.  Bruin  threw  his  arms  around 
the  tree  on  the  opposite  side,  and  came  down,  as  old  Asa  said,  "like 
a  streak  of  greased  lightning."    The  pack  covered  him  as  he  touched 


I 

r 

W 

1 

1    : 

1 

1 

,{ , 

l! 

:    S 


7# 


Bear-Hunting  in  the  South. 


£.l»(^'ii-4. 


THi;    DEATH. 


the  earth.  Major  Duncan  rushed  to  the  rescue  of  the  dogs,  who  are 
almost  sure  to  get  liurt  if  a  bear  is  wounded  ;  but  the  dogs  were  so 
thick  the  major  could  not  shoot.  I  saw  Bravo  caught  in  Bruin's 
arms,  and  saw  the  major  push  a  couple  of  dogs  aside  and  fire,  but  he 
only  succeeded  in  knocking  the  brute  down  and  releasing  the  old 
dog.  At  the  same  moment,  a  stroke  of  Bruin's  paw  sent  the  major's 
gun  spinning  through  the  air.  The  bear  then  rushed  away  into  the 
canebrake.  Around  and  around,  within  the  space  of  a  few  hundred 
yards,  the  battle  raged  fiercely.  The  htinters  were  all  scattered 
through  the  canebrake,  when  the  bear  chanced  to  head  directly  for 
Rogers,  who  fired  and,  as  the  bear  cliarged,  took  to  his  heels,  and  but 
for  the  courage  of  the  dogs  would  have  been  caught. 

At  the  report  of  the  gun,  the  maddened  pack  covered  the  game 
again,  and  he  had  to  stop  to  shake  them  off.  Rearing  on  liis  hind 
feet,  he  would  strike  down  with  his  fore  j^aws,  his  long,  sharp  claws 
making  the  "  fur  fly "  wherever  they  struck.  The  bear  generally 
strikes  downward,  as  he  is  pigeon-toed,  and  from  the  conformation  of 
his  fore-arm  cannot  well  strike  laterally  when  rampant. 

Rogers  had  gained  on  the  bear  by  the  dogs'  renewed  attack,  but 
as  soon  as  Bruin  had  shaken  them  off,  he  again  pursued  his  human 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  Sottth. 


77 


foe,  when  old  Asa,  pushing  Rogers  aside,  heroically  stepped  in  front, 
and  dropping  on  one  knee,  threw  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and  fired. 
l"he  bear,  though  mortally  wounded,  sprang  upon  him.  I  was  close 
at  hand,  but  could  not  shoot  without  the  risk  of  hurting  my  friend.  I 
shouted  to  the  pack.  Regardless  of  danger,  the  brave  dogs  rushed 
to  the  rescue,  and  again  covered  the  bear,  just  as  he  had  seized  old 
Asa  by  the  leg.  I  sprang  forward,  and  reaching  the  opposite  side 
struck  a  well-directed  blow  and  fell  back,  leaving  my  knife  in  the 


OI.I>    ASA    IN     TKUMIMI. 


monster's  heart.  The  experienced  hunter  always  strikes  a  bear  from 
the  opposite  side  to  which  he  stands,  as  the  bear  is  sure  to  turn  to 
the  side  from  whence  he  receives  the  blow  ;  and  woe  to  the  unlucky 
hunter  caught  in  his  death-grasp.  As  the  bear  rolled  over  and 
expired,  old  Asa  sprang  to  his  feet  and  exclaimed,  as  he  grasped 
my  hand,  "Bully  for  you,  old  pard !  A  leetle  more  an'  I  would  have 
been  mince-pie  for  that  tarnal  critter,  tryin'  to  save  Greeny,  than 
Hoopee,  good  dogs!"  And,  at  the  voice  of  affection  from  their  mas- 
ter, they  gathered  around  him,  while  the  old  hunter  sat  on  the  carcass 
of  the  bear  and  caressed  his  battle-scarred  pets,  examining  all  of 
their  wounds  before  he  looked  at  his  own.  It  proved  to  be  an  ugly, 
though  not  dangerous,  bite  on  the  calf  of  the  leg. 

"  Hoys,"  he  said,  "we  are  only  a  mile  from  camp,  and  If  I  can 
get  to  the  bayou  just  outside  of  this  cane,  I  can  walk  with  less  pain 
than  1  can  ride  through  the  brake." 

Refusing  all  assistance,  the  old  hunter  started  for  camp  alone, 


Ill 


78 


Bear- Hunting  in  the  South. 


and,  getting  into  the  bayou,  wadccl  into  the  cokl  water,  as  he  said, 
to  numb  the  pain.  We  skinned  and  cut  up  the  bear,  whicii  was  no 
easy  task,  as  a  bear's  hide  does  not  peel  off  like  a  eleer's,  but  is  tight 
on  his  body,  like  a  hog's,  the  removal  of  every  inch  requiring  the 
assistance  of  the  knife.  We  reached  camp  by  dark,  and  found  old 
Asa  with  his  leg  poulticed  with  medicinal  herbs,  in  the  virtues  of 
which  he  was  well  acquainted.  Wounded  as  he  was,  the  okl  man 
was  the  life  of  the  camp.  He  smoked  his  pipe  and  cracked  jokes  at 
everybody.  Calling  Hannibal,  he  instructed  him  in  the  mysteries  of 
making  a  "filibuster."  He  first  took  the  caul-fat,  or  bear's  hand- 
kerchief, and  spread  it  out  on  the  inside  of  the  fresh  hide  ;  then  he 
cut  slices  of  liver  and  choice  bits  of  bear-meat,  in  the  selection  of 
which  he  was  a  connoisseur.  Between  the  layers  he  placed  a  very 
thin  slice  of  bacon,  all  the  time  rolling  it  in  the  caul -fat,  occasionally 
inserting  sprigs  of  fragrant  spice-wood,  as  he  said  to  give  it  a  flavor, 
until  a  large  meat  sandwich  was  made.  Then,  sticking  a  wooden 
skewer  through  it,  he  roasted  it  before  the  fire.  And  a  more  sa\ory 
dish  never  regaled  the  palate  or  olfactories  of  a  hungry  hunter. 

In  summing  up  the  casualties  of  the  fight,  we  found  two  dogs 
killed  and  seven  wounded  —  three  severely.  Quiet  at  length  settled 
upon  our  camp,  the  hoot  of  the  barred  owl  alone  breaking  the  still- 
ness of  the  night.  Hut  it  did  not  disturb  the  peaceful  dreams  of  dogs 
or  hunters,  or  of  Hannibal,  snoring  to  the  accompaniment  of  the 
kettle,  which  hummed  a  lullaby  as  it  prepared  the  head  of  Hruin  for 
to-morrow's  repast. 


f   ■! 


F()\-HL'N'riN(i    IN    Xl'W    liXCLAM). 


Ilv   ROWLAND   K.   ROHIXSOX. 


In  New  EnjjjIancI  ami  sonic  of 

tin:  northern  and  middle  States, 

the    fox   is   hunted   with    two  or 

three  hounds,  or  oftener  with  only 

one,  the  hunter  .i^oing  on  foot  and 

#;     armed  with  a  shot-irun  or  rifle,  his 

method  heinj^  to  shoot  the  fox  as 

^     _  '-^     it  runs  before  the  hounds.     The 

fox   is  proverbially   the    most    cunnint;-  of 

beasts,  often  eludinjr  by  his  tricks  the  most 

expert  hunter  and  the  truest  hounds.     Lonij 

walks  are    required,  which   take  one  over 

many  miles  of  woods,  hills,  and  fields,  and 

this  in  fall  and  winter  when  the  air  is  always 

pure  and  bracing. 

In  New  England,  the  hunt  is  for  the  red  fox  and  his 
varieties ;  the  silver  and  cross  foxes,  the  gray  fox  of  the  south  and 
west  being  almost,  if  not  quite,  unknown.  I*"rom  the  tip  of  his  nose 
to  the  root  of  his  tail,  the  red  fox  measures  about  twenty-eigh;.  or 
thirty  inches,  his  tail  sixteen  to  eighteen  inches  including  hair,  and 
his  height  at  the  shoulder  thirteen  inches.  His  long  fur  and  thick, 
bushy  tail  make  him  look  larger  and  heavier  than  he  is.  Ot  several 
specimens  which  I  have  weighed,  the  largest  tipped  the  beam  at 
twelve  pounds ;  the  least  at  seven  pounds.  The  general  color  is 
yellowish  red  ;  the  outsides  of  the  ears  and  the  fronts  of  the  legs  and 
feet  are  black ;  the  chin  and  usually  the  tip  of  the  tail,  white ;  and 

79 


t  L- 


• 


ie» 


Fox- Hunting  in  Nciu  ling! and. 


the  tail  darker  than  the  body,  most  of  its  hairs  hciii},'  tipped  with 
bhick.  The  eyes  are  near  toj^^ether  and  stronjjfly  express,  as  tloes 
the  whole  head,  the  alert  and  cunning  nature  of  the  animal. 

The  cross  fox,  much  scarcer  than  the  red,  is  very  i)eautiful.  It  is 
thus  described  by  Thompson  :  "  A  blackish  stripe  passinjr  from  the 
neck  down  the  back  and  another  crossing  it  at  right  angles  over  the 


'AN    HONKST    1  OX    MIST    IIVI:. 


shoulders;  sides,  ferruginous,  running  into  gray  on  the  back;  the 
chin,  legs,  and  under  parts  of  the  body,  black,  with  a  few  hairs  tipped 
with  white  ;  upper  side  of  the  tail,  gray  ;  under  side  and  parts  of  the 
body  adjacent,  pale  jellow  ;  tail  tipped  with  white.  The  cross  upon 
the  shoulders  is  not  always  apparent,  even  in  specimens  which,  from 
the  fineness  of  the  fur,  are  acknowledged  to  be  cross  foxes.  Size,  the 
same  as  the  common  fox." 

The  black  or  silver  fox  is  so  rare  in  New  England  that  to  see  one 
is  the  event  of  a  life-time.  The  variety  is  as  l)eautiful  and  valuable 
as  rare.  Its  color  is  sometimes  entirely  of  a  shining  black,  except 
the  white  tip  of  the  tail,  but  oftener  of  a  silvery  hue,  owing  to  an 
intermixture  of  hairs  tipped  with  white.  It  has  probably  always 
been  uncommon  here,  for  it  is  said  to  have  been  held  in  such  estima- 
tion by  the  Indians  of  this  region,  that  a  silver  fox-skin  was  equal 
in  value  to  forty  beaver-skins,  and  the  gift  of  one  was  considered  a 


Fox- Hunting  in  New  England. 


8i 


s;icreil  pled^fc.     (Jnc  often  hears  of  silver  foxes  bein^'  seen,  l)iit,  like 
ilie  bi},f  fish  so  often  lost  by  anglers,  they  almost  invariably  get  away. 


AFIKK    A    lim-.AKKAST. 


I'oxes  are  less  rare  in  settled  countries  and  on  the  borders  of 
civilization  than  in  the  wilderness,  for,  though  they  find  no  fewer 
enemies,  they  find  more  abundant  food  in  the  open  fields  than  in  the 
forest.  The  common  field-mouse  is  a  favorite  in  their  bill-of-fare ; 
and  the  farmer's  lambs  and  the  good  wife's  geese  and  turkeys  never 
come  amiss  therein.  These  are  all  more  easily  got  than  hares  or 
grouse.  In  justice  to  Reynard  it  must  be  said,  however,  that  when 
mice  are  plenty,  lambs  and  jjoultry  are  seldom  molested.  In  times 
of  scarcity,  he  takes  kindly  to  beech-nuts  in  the  fall,  and  fills  him- 
self with  grasshoppers  and  such  small  deer  in  the  summer.  When 
these  fail, —  why,  what  would  you?     An  honest  fox  must  live. 

When  not  running  before  the  hounds,  he  is  seldom  seen  in  day- 
time, except  it  may  be  by  some  early  riser  whose  sharp  eye  discerns 
him  in  the  dim  dawn,  moving  in  meadow  or  pasture,  or  picking  his 
stealthy  way  across  lots  to  his  home  woods.  In  thest;  woods  he 
spends  his  days,  sleeping  or  prowling  slyly  about  in  quest  of  some 
foolish  hare  or  grouse. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  fox  resorts  to  his  burrows  much  except  in 
great  stress  of  weather  and  during  the  breeding  season,  or  when 
driven  to  earth  by  relentless  pursuit.  I'or  the  most  part,  he  takes 
his  hours  of  ease  curled  up  on  some  knoll,  rock,  or  stump,  his  dense 
fur  defying  northern  blasts  and  the  "nipping  and  eager  air"  of  the 


rff 


t  I 


'•i     ■  I 

•'i  i 

.  i 

I  ( 


tl 


! 


82 


I'ox-Uniitiitj^  ill  New  /iiig/(Hi(/. 


A     IIM'J'V     r   \MII.V. 


(oldest  wiiUcr  iiij^lit.      Slicllcr  Iroiii  rain  or  snow-storms  In-  iiniloiiht 
(•(lly  will  take,  lor   In;  is  not  ovcrron<l  of  licin;^  l)C(lrat4}^f|((l,  tlioiiL;!;  il 
is  (  irtain    he   '.\ill   soinetinx's   take   lo   thi;   \,ater  and   cross  a   stream 
without  liein^  ilriven  to  it. 

Iseynard  i^oes  wooin;.^  in  I'ehniary,  and  travels  lar  and  wide  in 
search  ol  sweethearts,  toying  with  <'very  \i,\en  he  m<'ets,  hiil  i.iilhlnl 
to  none,  lor  his  love  is  I'.'tre  lleeliiii^  than  the  tracks  he  leaves  in  tli<- 
driHii)!,;  snow  In  .\|>ril,  the  vixen  liavn)^  set  her  house  in  order  l)\ 
clcarim;  it  ot  ruhhish,  hrin^^s  forth  Ikm'  ycjim;^, —  irom  t!iri:e  to  sis  or 
more  at  a  litter.  I  his  house  is  sometimes  a  burrow  in  sandy  soil 
with  s;vi  I'al  eutranci  s  :  sometimes  .iden  in  the  rocks,  and  sometimes, 
in  old  woods,  .1  hollow  lon^.  In  lour  or  h\<-  weeks  the  (jueer  little 
puj^f-nosed  cubs  he^in  to  j'lay  alioiit  the  entranc<'  I  he  i!ioiher  hunts 
faitidully  to  jirovidf'  them  witii  lood,  and  ma\'  sometimes  he  si<i)  on  her 
homeward  wa\  with  a  IrinLje  ol  held  mice  han^iiiL;  irom  her  mouth. 
,\l<.>ut  the  eiiirance  to  the  lieu  ui.iv  he  seen  the  wim^s  ol  domestic 
jMinlirs.  wihl  ducks,  and  -^rons;-,  and  tin-  lev;s  ol  lamhs.  —  the  Ira^- 
inents  ol  many  .1  v'uljiine  hast. 

It  is  a  (  nrious  lact,  and  one  I  have  n<-ver  seen  mcniloned  in  print, 
that  wlrle  tin-  cul's  an  depindent  on  the  ini-iher,  a  hound  will  onl\- 
l(jilow  her  for  a  lew  miniilcs.      ()i   the  e.xisteni':  ol   this   ]>rovision  lor 


the 

the 
VI  \' 

.III 

Ih 

ulle 
SI  II  )l 

Mir 

I, 


IS 


u 


I'ox-I liiHliiii^  ill   Nciu  liiiifldini. 


83 


ilir  safely  o(  the  yuww^  foxes  I  liavtt  Iiad  ocular  proof,  confinned  hy 
\\v  slalemenis  of  persons  wlioin  I  helii've.  In  June,  iS''jH,  an  old 
vi.N'ii  was  niakinL;  sad  havoc  with  one  oi  niv  nelwhliors'  lanihs,  and 
.III  old  fox  hiini'T  was  rojuesled  lo  lake  the  field  in  their  deiiiis<:. 
\\--  pro(<i-ded  with  his  hounds  Ooleral*!)'  jmxxI  one,;  to  the  wooils 
A  lure  her  hiirrow  was  known  to  he,  and  put  the  tlo;(s  out.  I  he\' 
•,(11)11  staried  h<r  and  ran  her  out  ol  the  woo<ls,  hut  ^nsatly  to  the 
Mirprise  ol  the  iiunl<r  they  reiiiined  in  a  lew  n)onients,  looliiiL;  as 
Jiamefaced  as  w'Mpp'd  curs  with  the  old  lo.x  lollowin;^  them.  I  )is 
'.aisled  with  the  l/ehavioi  ol  1,1  own  do;^s,  he  sou;.^ht  the  assistance 
1)1  an  old  hound  oi  ceh'hiateo  ()ualities,  l)elon;.dn;>  to  a  nei^hhor. 
•ilie  wa'>  put  out  with  the  other  doi^s,  with  just  the  same  result.  The 
\i.sen  was  at  last  shot,  while  sin:  was  chasin;(  the  hounds,  who  then 
iiiriied  upon  Ik  f,  hiiin'.;  .md  sliakintf  !ier  as  is  their  wont  when  a. 
lux  is  killed  helon:  theii)  ;  hut  my  iiieiid,  the  hunter,  told  ni<-  tlii-\' 
were  as  si(  k  and  <iistressed  as  ever  <lo^s  wen;  alter  an  (MKounter 
with  a  skunk.  .Ahout  the  last  of  May,  1S7S,  i  witnessed  a  like 
iiK  ident.  .\  stanch  oM  hoinid  ol  my  own  havin^r  accompanie<l  me 
01.  a  fishing  excursion,  start<:d  a  tox  in  a  pie(  e  ol  woods  where  a 
iilti-r  of  yoiiiiL,;  were  kiioun  lo  he.  .\nxious  to  |)r's<r\i:  the  litter 
|i)i-  s])ort  in  the  fall,  1  hastened  to  call  in  the  dot;.  I  found  him 
trotiin;;  alon;.^  with  lowi'fed  tail,  the  vi.xen  leisurely  iroltin;.^  not  more 
than  live  rods  in  advance,  sloppinjf  every  half  inimite  to  hark  at 
him,  wh'ii  he  would  stop  till  she  ai^ain  went  on.  1  called  him  in 
as  easily  r  ,  ii  he  had  heen  nosing  lor  a  mouse,  th(Mi;,di  under  ordi 
iiar\'  circumstances  it  would  have  re(|uiref|  a  vi;.;orous  assertion  of 
autliorit)   to  have  taken  him  ofl  so  hot  a  scent. 

If  ill''  life  of  the  \ixen  is  spared  and  she  is  not  (ontimiallv 
harassed  hy  men  or  do;,;  ,  durni;.;  the  hrei'dini:^  season,  siie  will  rem.iin 
III  tin-  saiii'  !o(alit\  lor  years,  and  re;ir  liit<r  alter  litt'-r  tlu-re  ,  p.-r 
liap-.  not  al\\a\s  inhahiiin;;  the  same  hiirrow,  hut  oiv  onii-wherc 
within  till-  s.ime  pie(c  r>|  woods  u\-  on  ihe  s.ame  hill.  if  slir  is  mu(  h 
(listiu'hed,  or  il  sh'  p':'('i\cs  thai  lii-r  hurrow  is  discover -d,  ,h<- 
speedily  I'emoves    her    \()un;.;    to   aiioth'-r  ret r<  at.        I  h'-    \oim'.;    lo\<'s 

I'llUimie     to     liaiMlt     tin-     wooil,      where      lhe\       were     I'lsU'id     lor     some 

months  alter  lhe\  li.i\e  (  isasi'd  lo  re(|uiic  the  care  of  their  mothir 
and  then  disperse.  i  he  hahits  ahove  mentioned  .are  eomiiKjn  to  llx' 
<  loss  and  silver  I<jxes.  as  well  as  the  red  fo.x. 


Iiiii 


I  p.  ,rj  ;r 


,1 


i  i 


I    I 


f  Hi 


h 
t 

! 

I 

t 
I 


84 


h'ox-IIiiutiu}^  in  New  linglamL 
\ 


>:Mw.::. 


And  now  for  the  hunt.  I'Voni  his 
hclpl(;ss  babyhood  in  l(;afl(;ss  April, 
Reynard  has  conn:,  by  the  middle  of 
the  aiituinn.  to  months  of  discretion 
and  to  a  lar}^(;  and  intreasinjf  capacity 
lor  takinjr  care  of  himself  The  \v(;a|»- 
ons  are  double-barrel  shot-^uns,  of 
such  weight  and  caliber  as  may  suit 
the  individual  fancy.  A  v<;ry  li^ht 
^am  will  not  do  the  execution  at  tin; 
lonj^f  ranj^e  som(;limes  re(|uired,  '  ' 
on  the  other  hanil,  a  very  h(;avy  one  will  beccjme  burdensome  ih  ilic 
lon^  tramps  that  ma)-  Ix;  necessary  ;  for  a  man  of  ordinar\'  slrentali, 
an  S-lb.  ;^im  will  be  found  (|uit(;  heavy  entni^h.  It  should  be  ol  a 
caliber  which  will  properly  chamber  its  full  change  <jf  at  least,  I)  15 
shot, — for  I  hold  that  the  forc(;  of  lijL^hter  shot  will  be  broken  b\'  llu- 
thick  fur  of  the;  fo.\  ;  ind(;ed,  I  wouki  su^j^^esl  still  lu;avier  pc-llets,  su) 
r.  15  15,  or  ev<:n  A. 

(  )\w  lujimds,  not  so  cantfully  bnrd  as  they  should  be,  cannot  be 
classed  in  any  particular  br(;ed.  They  are  mon-  like  the  old  South 
ern  fox-hound  than  like;  the  modern  iln^dish,  and  for  our  purpose 
ar':  incf)mparably  superior  to  the  latter.  They  are  not  fleet,  '.ike  him 
(flec'tiK'ss  h(;re  bein^  objcrctionable,  as  will  b(;  shownj,  but  of  ,iL,M-eal 
endin-ance,  and  unsurpassable  sc(;ntin^  pow(;rs, — for  they  will  follow 
a  fox  ihnxi^h  all  his  (]<n'ious  windinj^s  and  endless  d<;vices,  from 
dawn  till  dark,  throut(h  tin;  nii^ht  and  for  another  day.  Our  b(;st 
doj^^s  ar(,'  well  described  Ijy  .Shakspere  in  "  .vlidsummer  Night's 
Dream  "  : 

"  My  hounds  arc  hrcl  out  of  the  Sp.irlmi   kind. 
So  (Icw'd,  so  s.'iidi'd  ;  and  their  hu.ids  art-  h.un^ 
With  tars  that  s  VLTp  ;uvay  llic  inorniii^  dew  : 
< 'rook-knccd,  and   dcw-lapp'd   like  'Ihcssahan    liulK. 
Slow  in   pursuit,  liiit    niatihtd   in   month   hkr   hells, 
l'',a(  h   under  ('aeh." 

Th(M"r  c()lf)rs  are  l)lue-mottl(;d,  with  patches  of  black  and  tan  or  yel- 
low, with  tan  eye-|)alches  ;  white,  !!(.•  kt;d  with  yellow,  termed  by 
old  lime  huntc^rs  "  pimkin  an'-milk  "  ,  vvl  ite  and  black  and  black  and 
tan,  with  variali(jns  and  admixtures  of  all   these  colors.      It  is  an  old 


l<\)X-IIitntiii}f  ill  Ncio  liiii^lnud. 


85 


sayinJ,^  "that  a  j^ood  horse,  can- 
not 1><:  of  a  had  color";  aiicl  tlic 
color  of  a  hound  is  nion;  a  matter 
of  faiH  V  tlian  of  cxc^cllcncf;.  A 
loud  and  inrlocHous  voice  is  a 
most  d(-siral)h;  quality,  and  this 
man)' of  our  native  fox-do^s  pos 
sess  in  perteclion.  A  liound  witli 
a  w<:ai\  \()ice  is  a  constant  worry, 
and  one  with  a  discordant  \'oice 
vext:s  tin-  ear.    When  ti)e  j^anie  is 


--*■  -^^'^m^ 


!h 


86 


I'ox- 1  hinting  in  Ni'^o  I  in  gland. 


It  is  tin;  early  morninj^  of  one  of  the  pcrrf'rct  clays  of  late  Octolxr  or 
<.*ariy  Xovcinltcr.  In  the  soft  ^n-ay  lijfhlof  th(;  t^rrowinjf  day,  the  herbage 
of  the  pasliires  and  the  aft(rrniatli  of  tiie  iiKtadows  are  pearly  with  frost 
which  is  thick  and  white  on  hoards  and  fence-rails.      The  air  is  chill 

hut  iinstirn;d 
l)\  the  lijrhtest 
ljree/.(!,  and  if 
the  day  k(;eps 
the  j)roMiise  of 
the  mornint^  it 
will  he  finite 
warm  enough 
for  conifortahh; 
tranipinj^  wiieii 
tlv  siMi  is  fairly 
up.  ihehoiinds, 
called  from  their 
straw,  come 
yawnin;.;  and 
limping;  forth, 
stiff  from  the 
chase  of  yester 
dav,l'ntar<;el(-<- 
trifled  with  new 
life  i)\  the  sight 
of  the  guns. 
'I  he)-  career 
,d)r)Ut,  soiuiding 


-'I 


* 
1 


«i'n\^\i: 


<  Al  r.lM,     I  M.       ll'Ifis. 


I 


I'ox-Uiiutin^f  ill  New  I  in  inland. 


«7 


llicy  will  ^oblilc  it  r.tvinonsly  ciioii^^rli  l.()-nii,flil,  it  lli<y 
liavc;  tlu;  chance 

Ami  now,  aua\  I  across  the  frosty  ti<l<ls  lowanl  somkr  low  hill, 
which  we  (li^ttilX  wilh  lh<-  name  ot  moiinlain.  No  soii^-hirds  now 
welcome  the  coinin!^  (la\  ;  alinosi  ihi-  only  soimd  which  hrc.iks  tin; 
^ray  scrcnilv  is  ihe  clamor  of  a  flock  of  (rows  in  the  distant  woods, 
announcinjf  their  awak<;nini^f  to  anodier  day  of  southward  journeyinj^, 
or  the  challen;:^!-  of  a  cock  in  a  far  off  farm  yard.  As  you  hurry 
a<  ross  the  home  p.istur'-.  the  cows  stoj)  <  hewini;  the  <  iid.  lo  stare 
curiouslv  at  hoinids  an<l  hiuiters,  and  ihen  arise,  siL^hin^  and  stretch 
iii^,  from  their  coiu  h<s  on  liie  (h'\  knolls.  A  Hock  of  sheej,  start 
from  their  liuddh  d  repose  ,iiid  s(  urry  awa\-,  haltin;^  at  a  little  distance 
to  snort  .and  stani|)  at  the  rude  disturhers  of  their  early  m<-ditaiions. 
Almost  tlx'  oid\'  sii^ns  of  life  .ire  these,  ,ind  the  u|jw.ird  rrawlini( 
smoke-  of  kite  hen  (  himne\s,  where  sluLfL,rards  are  just  makin;^  their 
first  pn!|>arations  for  breakfast.  N'ours  has  hecn  <aten  this  half  Imur. 
liie  old  do;^  |)lods  aloniL^,  with  seri<»us  and  husiness  like  air,  dis 
dainii)'4   and    n  jiellinj^r   all    attempts  of    his   )cinn;^fer  contpanion    \.u 


.\i 


i    t 


Mrito! 


Ifi-jHi; 


.5v^  n 


7t 


if 


88 


J'ox-I luntiiig  in  Nmv  lin gland. 


l)(;^Miilc  him   into  any  iins<:c'nily  jramhols ;   hut  wlirn   you  cross 
ft;na:  vvhicii  l>ouncls  tiic;  pasture  iyiiij^f  alonj,^  liic  foot  of  the;  hill,  wl 
the  rank  ^^rass,  mixed  with  last  y(;ar's  j^frowth,  is  ankh;  (Icep, 
where  j,'rass  and  innumerai)le  stimips  and  joj^s  afford  harhor  for 
onics  of  field-mice,  you   fuid  "then;  is  life  in  the  old  dojr   yet." 
halls    for  an    instant  and   snuffs  the  air; 
draws   toward  a   tuft  of  j^^rass  and   noses 
it  carefully  ;   his  sensitive  nostrils  dilate  ; 
his  staid    and   sober    tail    hej^ins,    not    to 


the 
lerc 
and 
col- 
lie 


'■W"€» 


I  III'.     I  KAIL. 

wa<.(,  hut  to  (lescril)e  circles;  the; 
serious  lines  of  his  hrow  hcconir 
I  frown  ;  he  mounts  that  lot;  and 
snuffs  it  froni  end  to  (MkI  and  hack 
a,L;ain  with  studious  care.  Now  liis 
loud,  eai^er  snuffmL,r  has  ^rowii  to  a  suppressed  challennri-,  and  ever\' 
muscle  s(;(.'ms  strained  to  its  ulmnsl  tension,  as  lie  Iclvcs  the  Jom-  and 
mak{;s  a  few  lopes  toward  the  v.oods,  stops  for  ui  instant  as  il  turned 
to  stone,  raises  his  ^'ood  .!L,''ray  nuizzK;  skyward,  and  awakeus  ,ill  the 
woods  and  hills  wiili  his  de(-p,  sonorous  voice!  That  way  has  R<y- 
nard  ;,rone,  awA  that  huirle-nole  lias  perha|)s  <^iv(ii  him  premonition 
of  his  doom.  This  note  has  recalled  the  youni^  do^;  Irom  iiis  wild 
ranj.,dni(,  and  he  joins  his  older  ;uid  wiser  (ompanion,  wilhoui  hrin,L;- 
int,''  much  aid,  however,  for,  calchiiiL;  the  scent,  ln'  |)roclaims  his 
discover)-  till  loni^-  after  he  has  overrim  il,  now  and  then  sli^htK- 
disconcerliiiL;    the   old   truth  l<;ller ;    hut     the   veteran    soon    learns    to 


* 
« 


I 


jSt 


'MMi 


Fox-llitiitiiig  in  Nciu  liiiirlaiuL 


89 


-if  H^  il^g'il 


or  (  rosscs  from  liill    In  hill,  tin  n-  an-  ccrlain    ]H)iii;s,  which  (  \-(:ry  fox, 


:«■!■■;! ill  I  |l!l 

Mil  Oil 


f«  i 


90 


Fox-Hunting  in  Nciu  liugland. 


IN    NOVEMHKK. 


j,j 


whether  stranj^er  or  to  this  |jarticiilar  woodhind  horn,  is  lihcly  to 
take  in  his  way,  but  not  sure  to  do  so.  Having'  learned  tiiese  points 
by  hearsa)'  or  experience,  you  take  )our  post  at  the  nearest  or  likeliest 
one,  and  between  hope  and  fear  await  )our  opportunity.  Such  a 
place  is  this  Notch,  toward  which  with  hast)  sti^ps  and  beating  heart 
you  taki  _  >Mr  way.  When  the  fox  returns,  if  he  crosses  to  the  .south 
hill,  he  will  come  down  that  depression  between  the  ledges  which  you 
face  ;  then  cross  the  brook  and  come  straight  in  front  of  you,  toward 
the  wood-road  in  which  \()u  stand,  or  else  turn  off  to  the  right  to  cross 
the  road  antl  go  up  that  easy  slope  to  the  south  hill,  or  turn  to  the 
left  and  cross  on  the  other  hand.  Standing  midway  between  these 
points,  either  is  a  long  gun-shot  oft",  but  it  is  the  best  place  to  post 
yourself;   .so  here  take  breath  and  steady  your  nerves. 


* 


mm 


Fox-Hiiiiti/ig  ill  Nc7o  Eiiglnnd. 


91 


How  still  the  woods  an;!  The  hoiimls  arc  out  of  hi'ariiii^  a  mile 
awa\.  No  i)rc(vi;  sit^hs  ihrouj^h  the  pines  or  stirs  the  fallen  leaves, 
file  trickle  of  the  l)rook,  the  penny-tninipet  of  a  niit-hatch,  the  lij^dit 
haiiiiiu'rini^f  of  a  ilown)  w()0(lpecki;r  are  the  only  sounds  the  strained 
ear  catches.  .\II  about  rise  the  gray  tree-trunks;  overhead,  ajj^ainst 
tlie  l)liie-,t,n-a)'  sky,  is  spread  their  net  of  branches,  with  here  .mil  thertt 
a  tuft  of  russet  anil  iroUlen  ami  scarlet  leavt;s  caught  in  its  meshes. 
At  vour  feet,  on  every  side,  lie  the  fadinj^  and  faded  leaves,  but 
bcarinj;-  still  a  hundred  hue-s  ;  antl  throu<rh  them  rise  tufts  of  j^n-e-en 
Icrn,  brown  stems  of  infant  trees  and  withered  plants  ;  frost-black- 
I'neti  Ijecch-drops,  spikes  of  the  tlull  a/ure  berries  of  the  blue  cohosh, 
antl  milk-white  ones,  crimson-stemmeil,  of  the  white  cohosh  ;  scark't 
clusters  of  wild  turnip  berries;  pale  asters  and  slender  jrolden-rod, 
bill  all  so  harmoniously  blended  that  no  one  object  stands  forth  con- 
spicuously. .So  kindly  does  Nature  screen  her  children,  that  in  this 
pervailinij  t^ray  and  russet,  l)east  and  bird,  blossom  and  L,r;uidy  leal, 
may  lurk  unnoticeil  almost  at  your  feet.  J'he  risinj^  sun  begins  to 
glorify  the  tree-tops.  And  now,  a  red  squirrel  startles  you,  rustlinir 
noisily  through  the  leaves.  He  scrambles  up  a  tree,  antl,  with  nervous 
twitches  of  feet  and  tail,  snickers  and  scolds  till  you  feci  almost 
wicked  enough  to  end  his  clatter  with  a  charge  of  shot.  A  blue- 
jay  has  spied  you  anil  comes  to  upbraid  you  with  his  discordant 
voice.  .\  party  of  chickadees  draw  nigh,  flitting  close  about  and 
pecking  the  lichcned  trunks  and  branches  almost  within  arm's-lengtli, 
satisfying  curiosity  and  hunger  together. 

At  last,  above  the  voices  of  these  garrulous  visitors,  your  ear 
discerns  the  baying  of  the  hounds,  faint  and  far  away,  swelling, 
dying,  swelling,  but  surely  drawing  nearer.  I>oudcr  rings  the 
"musical  confusion  of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction,"  as  the  dogs 
break  over  the  hill-top.  Now,  eyes  and  ears,  look  and  listen  your 
shar|)est.  Bring  the  butt  of  your  gun  to  your  shoulder  and  be 
motionless  and  noiseless  as  death,  for  if  at  two  gun-shots  off  Rey- 
nard sees  even  the  movement  of  a  hand  or  a  turn  of  the  head,  hi,' 
will  put  a  tree-trunk  between  you  and  him,  and  v;uiish  altogether 
and  "  k'ave  you  there  lamenting." 

Is  that  the  |)attcr  of  feet  in  the  dry  leaves,  or  did  the  sleeping 
air  awake  enough  to  stir  them  ?  Is  that  the  fo.x  ?  Pshaw  !  no — 
only  a  red   squirrel    scurrying  along  a  fallen    tree.      Is    that  ijuick, 


Ili! 


m 


92 


I'ox- Hunting  in  yV<7i'   /ing/nntf. 


\ 


imifflcd  tluul  \.\\v.  (Inini  (if  .1  partriilj^c  ?  No,  it  never  reaclu's  tin; 
final  roll  of  his  |)C'rtornianct'.  It  is  only  tlu;  hcatinjj;  ot'  your  own 
lu-art.      lint  now  you   hear  tlu;  unmijitakahlc  nervous  rustic  of  Riy- 


TO   PRSIRnY    TllK     SCKNT. 


naril's  footsteps  in  the  leaves  ;  now  hounilinjj;'  with  lonir  leaps,  now 
picking,''  his  way;  now  unheard  for  an  instant  as  he  halts  to  listen.  A 
yellow-retl  spot  _orows  out  of  the  russet  leaves,  and  that  is  he,  cominy^ 
straight  toward  you.  A  <,am-shot  and  a  half  away,  he  stops  on  a 
knoll  anil  turns  half-waj'  round  to  listen  for  tlu;  do<rs.  In  great  sus- 
pense you  wonder  if  he  will  come  riyht  on  or  sheer  off  and  baffle  you. 
But  a  louder  sounding'  of  the  change  by  his  pursuers  sends  him 
onward  rit^ht  toward  you.  I  lis  face  is  a  study  as  he  gallops  leisurely 
along,  listening  anil  plotting.  He  picks  his  way  for  a  few  yards  along 
the  outcropping  stones  in  the  bed  of  the  brook,  and  then  begins  to 
climb  the  slope  diagonally  toward  you.  1  le  is  only  fifty  yards  off 
when  you  raise  tlu;  muzzle  of  your  gun,  drop  your  chee'k  to  the  stock, 
and  aim  a  little  forwartl  of  his  nose;  your  finger  presses  the  trigger, 
and  while  the  loud  report  is  rebounding  from  wood  to  hill,  you  peer 
an.xiously  through  the  hanging  smoke  to  learn  whether  you  have 
cause  for  joy  or  mortification.  Ah  !  there  he  lies,  done  to  death, 
despite  his  speed  and  cunning.  The  old  dog  follows  his  every  foot- 
stej)  to  the  spot  where  he  lies,  stops  for  a  breath  in  a  half  surprise  as 
he  comes  upon  him,  then  seizes  him  by  the  back,  shaking  him  savagely, 
and  biting  him  from  shoulders  :o  hips.  Let  him  mouth  his  fallen  foi; 
to  his  heart's  content,  no  matter  how  hi;  rumples  the  sleek  fur;  it  is 
his  only  recompense  for  the  faithful  service  he  has  so  \vell  performed. 
And  now  the   young  dog  comes  up  and   claims  his  rca-ard,  and   be 


■    ,   '1 
;  M  ;: 


J 'OX- 1  III  II  ting  in  Nrio  Jinglaini. 


93 


ANiil  IIKK    ^TKAIA<;|-.M. 


surt!  this  niornins^r's  work  will  ljo  far  toward  inakiny   him  as  stanch 
and  true  as  his  chase- worn  leader. 

Hut  think  not  thus  vm\\  nor  with  such  successful  issue  is  i;very 
chase  to  close.  This  was  ended  before  the  fox  liail  used  any  otli<r 
trick  for  haftlin^-  the  hounils,  hut  his  simplest  one  of  running  in  circles. 
.An  hour  or  two  later,  and  old  fo.\,  findinjj^  the  dot^^s  still  holding;-  per 
sistenUy  to  all  the  windint;s  of  his  trail,  woulil  have  sped  away  to 
anotlier  hill  or  wood  a  mile  or  so  off.  anil  would  have  crossed  ni;wly- 
l)lowed  fields,  the  fresh  earth  leavin^j  no  tell-tale  scent;  would  have 
taken  to  traveled  hijifhways,  where  dust  ami  tlu-  hoofs  of  horses  and 
the  footsteps  of  men  combine  to  obliterate  the  traces  of  his  passam^ ; 
or  have  trod  _!L;"ini,^erly  alons^'  many  lenj.jths  of  the  top  rails  of  a  fi-nce 
and  th(!n  ha\  e  sprunj^  off  at  rii,du  anj^des  with  it  to  the  jrrounil,  ten 
feet  away  :  and  then,  perhaps,  have  run  through  a  flock  of  shee|),  the 
strontj  odor  of  whose  feet  blots  out  the  scent  of  his.  Thesi?  artifices 
(|uite  bewilder  and  baffle  the  younj^  dotj,  but  only  delay  the  (.'ld(M% 
who  knows  of  old  the  tricks  of  fo.xes.  Nothinjj[^  can  be  more 
admirable  than  the  manner  of  his  vvorkini^-,  as  he  comes  to  the  edjj^i? 
of    the    plowed    field.       He     wastes    no    time    in    useless    pottering 


p  W 


m  m\ 


M 


..Sit   "'W'", 

'■■ii  ■(\!^M: 


:!.   i 


,%. 


V* 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


A 


{/ 


^/ 


Jf. 


^(1 


1.0 


I.I 


IM 

1.8 


1.25      1.4   1  1.6 

^ 

6"     

► 

V 


<^ 


/; 


->/  ^'^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14SB0 

(716)  872-4503 


iV 


V 


•^^ 


^^  ^\  w,^ 


'^^ 


.V  -^s 


i 


It 


94 


Fox- Hunting  in  New  England. 


amonjj  the  frcsh-turnecl  furrows,  hut  with  rapid  1(»|m.'s  skirts  their 
swarded  border,  till,  at  a  far  corner,  his  speed  slackens  as  his  keen 
n»>se  catches  the  scent  again  in  the  ilamp  jjrass ;  he  snuffs  at  it  an 
instant  to  assure  himself,  then  sounds  a  loud,  melodious  noti-,  and 
jfoes  on  i)ayinjf  at  every  lope  till  the  road  is  reached.  Alonj;  this  he 
/ij^zajfs  till  he  finds  where  the  fox  has  left  it.  .\nd  now  c«)mes  the 
puz/ling  hit  of  fence.  The  old  ilojr  thinks  the  fox  has  ^roni-  throujjh 
it ;  he   goes  through   it   himself,  hut  fimls  no  scent  there ;    puzzles 

about  rapidly,  now  tryinj^  this 
side,  now  that;  at  last,  he  he- 
thinks  himself  of  the  top,  to 
which  he  claml)ers  and  there 
finds  the  missing  trail.  Hut  his 
big  feet  cannot  treail  the  "  giildy 
footing"  of  ti>e  rail  as  could  Rey- 
nard's dainty  pads,  so  down  he 
goes  and  tries  on  either  siile  for 
the  point  where  the  fox  left  th(! 
fence.  Ranging  up  and  down, 
too  near  it  to  hit  the  spot  where 
Reynard  struck  tin-  ground,  he 
fails  to  recover  the  scent,  stops, 
raises  nis  nose,  and  utters  a  long, 
mournful  howl,  half  vexation, 
half  despair.  .Now  he  climbs  to 
the  top  rail  further  on  and  snuffs 
it  there.     "  No   taint  of  a  fox's 


Fox-Hiiiitiiig  in  Ncto  Eiiglamt 


95 


toot  is  here,"  so  he  reasons,  "anil  he   must  have  jiinipecl  from  the 
Icncc  hctwciMi  hereantl  the  phice  where  I  found  it,"  and  actinj^on  this 
lt)i,Hcal  conchision.  he  circles  widely  till  he  has  picked  up  the  trail  once 
more,  and  j^oes  merrily  on  to  the  sheej)  pasture.    Here  satisfying  him- 
self of  the  character  of  this  trick,  he  adopts  the  same  plan  employed 
at  the  i)lowed   field,  antl  after  a  little  finds  the  trail  on  the  other  side 
and  follows  it  to  the  hill,  but  more  slowly  now,  for  the  fox  has  been 
i,fone  some  time  :   the  frost  has  melted,  the  moisture  is  exhalinjj.  and 
the  sc(;nt  j^rowinj^r  cold.     The  fox  has  long  since  reacheil  the  hill  and 
half  encircled  it.  antl  now  hearinj^j  the  voices  of  the  houmls  so  far  away 
and  so  slowly  nearinj^j.  has  bestowed  himself  on  the  mossy  cushion 
of  a  knoll  for  rest  and  cojj^itation.     Mere  he  lies  for  a  half  hour  or 
more,   but  always  alert  and  listeninv^.   while  the  doj^^s  draw  slowly 
on.  now  almost  losinj^^  the  trail  on  a  dry  ledj^e.  now  catchinjf  it  in 
.1  moist,  propitious  hollow,  till  at  last  a  nearer  burst  warns  poor  sly- 
hoots  that  he  must  ajj[ain  up  and  away.      He  may  circle  ai>out  or 
"play."  as  we  term  it.  on  this  hill,  till  you  have  reached  a  run-way 
on  it  where  you  may  jjjet  a  shot :  or,  when  you  have  toiled  painfully 
up  the  steep  western  pitch  and  havejust  reached  the  top,  blown,  lej;- 
weary,  but  expectant,  he  will  probably  utterly  disappoint  and  exas- 
perate you  by  leavini^  this  hill  and  returninjr  to  the  one  he  and  you 
have  so  lately  tpiitted, — yea,  he  will  even  intensify  the  bitterne>-,s  of 
your  heart  by  takinj.;  in  his  way  one  or  two  or  three;  points  where 
you  were  standiu)^  half  an   hour  ai^o  !     What  is  to  be  done?      He 
may  run  for  hours,  now  on  the  hilif  where  he  was  startetl.  or  he  may 
be  back  here  ajjain  before  the  hunter  can  have  rei^ained  that.     'I'o 
hesitate  may  be  to  lose,  may  be  to  j,Min.  the  coveted  shot.    One  must 
choose   as  soon  as  may  be  and  take  his  chances.     If  two  persons 
are  huntinjf  in  company,  one  should  keep  to  this  hill,  the  other  to 
that,  or  while  on  the  saim;  hill,  or  in  the  same  wood,  each  to  his  chosen 
run-way,  thus  doublinij  the  chances  of  a  sh(»t. 

At  last,  the  hounds  may  be  heard  bayinjj  continuously  in  one 
place,  and  by  this  and  their  peculiar  intonation,  one  may  know 
that  the  fox.  nndini^  his  tricks  unavailiniL,^  has  run  to  earth,  or,  as  we 
have  it,  "  has  holed."  (iuided  to  hi;,  r<;treat  by  thn  voicc.-s  of  tlu;  hounds, 
you  find  them  there,  by  turns,  bayinjj;  an^jrily  and  impatiently  and 
tearinjf  away,  tooth  and  nail,  tlv;  obstructinjjf  roots  and  earth.  If  in 
a  sandy  or  loamy  bank,  the  fox   may.  with  pick  and  spade,  be  tluj^ 


It 


i 


\ 


,r 


96 


Fox- Hunting  in  NcTi>  England. 


ignominiously  forth,  but  this  savors  strongly  of  pot-huntinj;.  If  he 
has  taken  sanctuary  in  a  rocky  den,  where  pick  and  spade  avail  not, 
there  is  nothinj;  for  it  but  to  call  the  dojjs  off  and  try  for  another  fox 
to-day,  or  for  this  one  to-morrow,  when  he  shall  have  come  forth 
aj^ain.  This  is  the  manlier  part,  in  either  case,  for  Reynaril  has 
fairly  baffled  you,  has  run  his  course  and  reacheil  his  j^^oal  in  safetj. 

Sometimes  an  old  fox,  when  he  hears  the  first  note  of  the  hounds 
on  the  trail  he  made  when  he  was  mousinjij  under  the  jjalinjj^  stars, 
will  arise  from  his  bed,  and  make  off  at  once  over  dry  ledj^^es,  plowed 
fields  and  sheep  pastures,  leaving  for  the  dogs  nothing  but  a  cold, 
puzzling  scent,  which,  growing  fainter  as  the  day  advances  and  the 
moisture  exhales,  they  are  oi)liged,  lunvillingly,  to  abandon  at  last, 
after  hours  of  slow  and  painstaking  work.  A  wise  oKl  hound  will 
often,  in  such  cases,  give  over  trying  to  work  up  the  uncertain  trail, 
and  guessing  at  the  direction  the  fox  has  taken,  pu.sh  on,  running 
mute,  at  the  top  of  his  speed,  to  the  likeliest  piece  of  woodUuul,  a 
nnle  away  perhaps,  ami  there,  with  loud  rejoicings,  pick  up  the  trail. 
When  after  a  whole  day's  chase,  during  which  hope  and  disappoint- 
ment have  often  and  rapidly  succeeded  each  other  in  the  hunter's 
breast,  having  followed  the  fox  with  untiring  zeal  through  all  the 
crooks  and  turns  of  his  devious  course,  and  unraveled  with  faultless 
nose  and  the  sagacity  born  of  thought  ami  (.-xperience  his  every 
trick, — the  good  dogs  bring  him  at  the  last  moment  of  the  gloaming 
within  range,  and  by  the  shot,  taken  darkling,  Reynard  is  tumbled 
dead  among  the  brown  leaves,  great  is  the  exultation  of  hunter  and 
hound,  and  great  the  happiness  that  fills  their  hearts,  .\iter  tramping 
since  early  morning  over  miles  of  the  likeliest  "starting-places" 
without  finding  any  trail,  but  cold  ami  sci;ntless  ones  made  in  the 
early  night,  and  so  old  that  the  dogs  cannot  work  them  out,  as  the 
hunter  takes  his  way  in  the  afternoon  through  .some  piece  of  wood- 
land, his  hounds  as  di»;couraged  as  he,  with  drooping  tails  and 
increased  sorrow  in  their  sad  faces,  plodding,  dejected  at  heel,  or 
ranging  languidly, — it  is  a  happy  surprise  to  have  them  halt,  and 
with  raised  muzzles  and  half-closed  eyes,  snuff  the  air.  then  draw 
slowly  up  wind  with  elevated  noses,  till  they  are  lost  to  sight  behind 
gray  trunks  and  mossy  logs  and  withered  brakes,  anil  then,  with  a 
crashing  flourish  of  trumpets,  announce  that  at  last  a  fox  has  been 
found,  traced  to  his  lair  l)v  a  breeze-borne  aroma  so  subtle  that  the 


•^  1 


:i- 


Fox- Hunting  in  New  England. 


97 


HKAKINc;    IIOMK    TIIK    tlRl'sM. 


sense  which  detects  it  is  a  constant  marvel.  A  fox  started  so  late  in 
the  day  seems  loath  to  leave  his  wood,  and  is  apt  to  jilay  there  till  a 
shot  gives  to  the  hunter  and  hounds  their  reward. 

When  one  sees  in  the  snow  the  intricate  windings  and  crossings 
and  recrossings  of  the  trail  of  a  mousing  fox,  he  can  but  wonder 
how  any  dog  by  his  nose  alone  can  untangle  such  a  knotted  thread 
till  it  shall  lead  him  to  the  place  where  the  fox  has  laid  up  for  the 
day ;  yet  this  a  good  hound  will  unerringly  do.  if  the  scent  has  not 
become  too  cold.  To  .see  him  do  this,  and  to  follow  all  his  care- 
ful, sagacious  work,  are  in  nowise  the  least  of  the  pleasures  of  this 
sport. 

It  is  a  favorite  season  for  fox-hunting  when  the  first  snows  have 
fallen,  for  though  the  walking  is  not  so  good,  and  hounds  are  often 
much  inclined  to  follow  the  track  by  sight  as  well  as  by  smell,  the  tell- 
tale foot-prints  show  pretty  plainly  which  way  the  fox  has  gone,  how 


Vil 

n 

1 

1 

1 

1 

t 

1 


H'' 


s    ; 


Fox -I  full  ting  in  Nciv  England. 

lon^  lu'  has  hocn  jL(t)ne,  and  whether  it  is  worth  jour  while  to  allow 
thedoifs  to  follow  his  trail  ;  ami  you  are  enabled  to  help  the  hounds  in 
puz/linjf  places,  tht>uji;h  a  doj^  of  wisdom  antl  experience  seldom  neeils 


TANIALI^INU    THE    DuliS. 


help,  except  for  the  saviujij  of  time.  A  calm  ilay  is  always  best,  ami 
if  warm  enouj;[h  for  tlu;  snow  to  pack  without  beinj^  at  all  "  sposhy," 
so  much  the  better.  Thouj^h  it  is  diBicult  to  "  start "  a  fox  durinj^  a 
heavy  snow-fall,  if  you  do  start  him.  he  is  pretty  certain  to  "  play  " 
beautifully,  seeminj^  to  reckon  much  on  the  obliteration  of  his  track 
by  the  falling  snow.  At  such  times  he  will  often  circle  an  hour  in  the 
compass  of  two  or  three  acres.  Cilare  ice  liolds  sci-nt  scarcely  more 
than  water.  This,  no  one  knows  better  than  the  fox,  ami  you  may 
be  sure  he  will  now  profit  by  this  knowledge  if  naked  ice  can  be 
found.  He  will  also  run  in  the  paths  of  the  hare,  pick  his  way  care- 
full)-  alonij  rocky  ridges  swept  bare  of  snow  by  the  wind,  leaving  no 
visible  trace  of  his  passage,  and,  at  times,  take  to  traveled  highwa\s. 
If  the  snow  is  deep  and  light  so  that  he  sinks  into  it,  he  will  soon, 
through   fatigue  or    fear  of  being  caught,    take    refuge   in   den  or 


»  .  . 


tMtM 


Fox -Hunting  in  New  linglami. 


99 


hurrow.  If  the  snow  has  a  crust  which  boars  him,  hut  throuj^h 
which  thi-  hravier  hounds  break  at  every  step,  he  hiu^^hs  them  to 
scorn  as  he  trips  leisurely  alonj^  at  a  tantaiizinj^'ly  short  ilistance 
lufore  them.  Hunting  in  sucii  seasons  is  weary  work,  and  more 
desiraljle  then  is  tlie  solace  ol'  book  ami  pipe  by  the  cozy  rtreside. 
wluTt-  the  hounds  lie  sleepiny^  ami  dreaminj^  ot'  j^lorious  tla\  s  of 
s|>urt,  alreaily  past  or  soon  to  come. 

In  winter  as  in  autumn,  the  sport  is  invi}.joratinj.;  ami  exciting, 
and  Nature  has  now,  as  ever,  her  endless  beauties  ami  secrets  for 
him  who  hath  eyes  to  behold  them.  To  such  ihi-y  are  manifoKl  in 
all  seasons,  and  he  is  feasted  full,  whether  from  the  balil  hill-top  he 
looks  forth  over  a  wide  expanse  of  «^rt)ri^eous  wotuls  and  fields,  still 
<:reen  under  October  skies,  or  .sees  them  brown  and  sere  throu«rh  the 
dim  November  haze,  or  spread  white  anvi  far  witii  I  )ecember  snows. 
The  truest  sportsman  is  not  a  mere  skillful  butcher,  who  is  (|uite  imsat- 
isheil  if  hi!  returns  from  the  chase  without  blood  upon  his  tjarments,  but 
he  who  bears  home  from  field  and  forest  somethinjj^  better  than  }^Mine 
anil  peltry  and  the  triumph  i-f  a  slayer,  and  who  counts  the  da\  not 
lost  nor  ill  spent  thouj^h  he  can  show  no  trophy  of  his  skill.  The 
beautiful  thin.ijs  seen,  the  ways  of  beasts  and  birds  noted,  are  what 
lie  treasures  far  lonjj^er  than  the  luunber  of  successful  shots. 


in 

wk 

Hi 

I 


It 

Iff  ' 


I)  i 


li   ■:'' 


A    MKKT    AT    NKWI'ORT. 


A^ttm 


A    HUI-FALO    HUNT    IN     NORTHltRN     MliXICO. 


Hv   C.KN.    I.KW.    WAl.LACK. 


AUTIIllK   <IK    "  THK    P\IK   liull,       "  HKS    IIIK.'     KK. 


Faut  I,     GoiN<;    lo   IIIK  Hi'Nr. 


ONH  traveling  to  the  far  city  of  Chihuahua  by  way  of  Monterey 
and  Saltillo  must  cross  what  the  Mexicans  call  Kl  I  )esierto, 
which  is  not  to  he  understood  as  a  rej^ion  of  shifting  sanii  and 
mud-gray  mountains,  like  the  deserts  of  the  liedawec.  It  is  only  a 
rainless  belt — rainless  in  the  summer  and  fall  and  part  of  the  winter. 
More  fertile  land,  speaking  of  the  land  its-lf,  is  not  on  the  globe. 
The  results  of  irrigation  by  the  sufficient  water-courses  are  incredible 
to  strangers,  while  the  plateaus  and  long  swales  between  mountains, 
and  fre(|uently  the  mountains  clear  to  their  crests,  are  covereil  with 
rank  grasses  which,  grown  in  the  brief  season  of  rain,  are  peculiar  in 
that  they  cure  themselves  in  the  standing  stalk.  Such  an;  the  />tis- 
tiiras  of  I  )urango  and  Chihuahua,  vast  enough  and  rich  enough  to 
feed  and  fatten  all  the  herds  of  whatever  kind  owned  by  men. 

The  resting-places  on  the  way  to  the  desert  are  Parras.  celebrated 
for  its  sweet  red  wines  and  the  wonderful  beauty  of  its  site  and  sur- 
roundings ;  Alamos,  most  rural  of  Mexican  towns,  dominating  the 
great  Laguna  district,  once  so  coveted  by  the  dead  president  of  the 
Latter  Day  Saints;  and  Mapimi.  whence,  off  the  road  right  or  left, 
lo,  the  dreatled  wilderness ! 

The  towns  named  are  two  and  three  days  apart,  with  certain 
ranchos  between  them,  but  for  which  the  .wayfarer  would  be  com- 
pelled to  bivouac  where  the  night  found  him,  on  the  ojjen  plain  or 

/A 


! 


I02 


/t  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


iiiuler  some  j^rcat  rock,  anil  I  am  not  certain  l)ut  the  plain  or  the 
rock  woiiKI  furnish  |)referal)le  loiljjinjj.  The  peon,  however,  to  whom 
the  sunhurnt  anil  perishinj,'  habitations  have  fallen,  is  of  simple  soul, 
full  of  eas)  content.  He  anil  Nature  live  close  nei^'hhors,  and  what 
with  much  horrowinjiT  from  her.  he  has  few  neeils  unj^ratifieil,  anil  no 
e.xperience  of  better  thinj^^s  to  iloj^  him  with  vain  wishes.  Of  these 
places  of  torment — 1  speak  as  somewhat  useil  to  civilized  ways — 
there  rise  vividly  to  mind  .Sejfuein.  Hocarilla,  Tierra  Leon,  and  Salitre. 
Should  my  reader  be  of  the  class  sometimes  smitten  with  a  lonj;inj,f 
for  a  home  in  a  desert,  let  me  recommend  to  him  a  day  and  nij^ht  in 
Salitre.  Besides  the  solitude  of  the  waste  place  it  is  squatted  in,  the 
flavor  of  tmiscit/,  in  constant  distillation,  hanj^^s  round  it  all  the  year. 
Superb  specimen  of  a  low-down  rancho,  nothinjif  need  be  said  of  it  as 
a  hotel. 

But  these  midway  stops  are  not  all  Bocarillas  and  Salitres.  The 
hacienda  of  Patos  was  the  residence  of  the  administrator  of  the  <rreat 
Carlos  Sanchez,  who,  in  Maximilian's  day,  was  monarch  of  over  seven 
thousand  peons,  settled  on  his  estate  of  8,131,242  acres.  With  such 
posse.ssions  it  is  not  wontlerful  that  Carlos  was  overcharmed  by  the 
prospect  of  an  empire  ;  and  when  he  accepted  the  ofifice  of  (Jrand 
Chamberlain  to  the  short-lived  emperor,  it  is  not  more  stranj^e  that 
Juarez,  the  Lincoln  of  his  country,  followed  him  with  a  decree  by 
which  Patos  became  the  property  of  the  nation,  subject  to  purchase. 
A  more  beautiful  place  will  scarcely  be  found  in  Mexico.  He  who 
has  seen  the  patio  of  the  Casa  Grande,  and  rested  in  the  coolness  of 
its  broad  colonnade,  may  not  soon  forget  Patos,  which  he  comes  upon 
from  the  hill-country  between  Saltillo  and  Parras,  an  unexpected 
Paradise  on  a  grim,  purgatorial  road. 

Then  Hornos  will  not  out  of  mind.  First  heard  of  at  Alamos,  it 
is  finally  overtaken  at  the  end  of  a  long  day's  journey.  Its  externals 
are  nothing, — four  dead  faces  of  cream-white  stone,  originally  softer 
than  the  coquina  of  Florida, — no  windows,  one  door  with  two  mighty 
valves  which  look  as  if  they  might  have  once  hung  in  the  Joppa  gates 
of  Jerusalem. 

A  hospitable  Spaniard  told  me  the  story  of  the  house.  Senor 
Don  Leonardo  Zuloagawas  a  European  by  birth  and  education.  He 
owned  a  great  estate  on  the  edge  of  the  unexplored  Bolson,  extend- 
ing quite  to  Alamos  on  the  south.     The  fortune  was  ducal.     There 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Nortlicni  Mexico. 


103 


ON     rilK    KOAU. 


was  in  his  tastes  a  streak  of  savagery,  and  to  induljj^r  it  he  wandered 
out  so  far  in  the  desert  and  built  this  fortalice.  Then  he  broujjjht 
l)ictures,  hooks,  wines,  jruns,  iloirs,  horses:  friends  followed  in  swarms, 
his  hospitality  was  senii-rei,fal  ;  \vlu;n  his  <rutsls  palled  of  feastintj, 
ilrinkintj,  jramblin^.  and  hiintini^  deer  -and  wolves,  not  seklom  he 
led  them  in  lonj^  pursuit  of  the  Comanche,  or  Lipan,  or  Apache, 
all  quite  as  untamable  as  wolves.  Ihe  Lai^unitiros  were  of  his 
tenantry  —  fierce,  idle,  independent  republicans,  u|)on  whom  not  even 
the  I'Vench  could  make  an  impression,  though  they  plieil  them  with 
fire  and  sword.  One  day,  they  came  up  and  demanded  that  he  rent 
them  certain  lands  upon  their  terms.  He  refused  ;  war  ensued,  and 
regular  battles.     Zuloaga  was  driven  off,  and  finally  died  of  sheer 


\- 


104 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  iu  Norihcru  Mexifo. 


A 


l<l;i 


mortification,  a  disease  with  all  ovcr-|)roii(i  souls,  (ion/ales  H«'rrera, 
a  brutal  ranchero,  assunuHJ  the  estate  hy  rij^ht  of  con(|ucst,  ami  sup- 
planted the  unquestioninj;  hospitality  of  the  proprietor  with  an  out- 


JUAN. 


lawry   stronj^  enouj^h   to  defy   the   state,   l)acked    by    the    national 


<,'overnment. 


To  the  door  of  this  sadly  haunted  dwelling  in  the  wilderness  we 
drove,  the  evening  of  an  October  day  in  the  year  nSbj.     The  party 

consisted  of   Colonel  C .  an  American;   Mr.   Roth,  a  (iernian; 

myself,  and  three  mozos, — that  is  to  say,  three  native  Mexicans,  chat- 
tels of  his  excellency  Don  Andreas  Viesca,  governor  of  the  State  of 
Coahuila — brave  men,  true,  honest,  affectionate,  at  home  on  the 
highways  of  the  desert,  and  brimful  of  experience  derived  from  life- 
long pilotage  to  and  fro  on  all  the  i)eaten  marches  of  Northern 
Mexico.  Juan,  Teodora,  and  Santos, — only  their  baptismals  are 
given,  as  in  the  sister  republic  nobody  troubles  about  the  surname  of 
a  peon.     Of  the  trio,  the  first  was  our  coachman,  and  the  second  our 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northcni  Mexico. 


105 


«.«.««""«('■ 


rear  jruard ;  while  the  third  went  always  before  to  spy  out  the  land 
for  whicii  he  had  eyes  of  the  far  reach  of  an  eay;le's,  jfood  for  the 
unusual  in  any  form. —  dust  in  the  valley,  smoke  on  the  mountain,  or 
what  not.  This  half-military  order  of  travel,  be  it  remarked,  was  not 
affected  hy  the  party  as  a  choice  or  an  eccentricity  ;  it  was  merely  a 
precaution  against  the  enterprise  of  ladrones  in  }j;eneral.  and  just  thi-n 
a  necessity,  as  the  journey  carried  across  the  line  of  a  raid  for  scalps 
and  plunder,  in  viijorous  execution  hy  a  band  of  Apaches  from  the 
region  of  the  Conchas  river,  of  whom  more  anon. 

To  the  very  door  we  drove  without  seeing  a  soul.  I  pleased 
myself  thinking  how  different  in  the  day  of  the  romantic  Don  Leon- 
ardo. Then  swarthy  retainers  held  the  portal  in  swarms,  and,  seeing 
us  afar,  they  would  have  run  to  meet  us,  the  effusion  of  their  welcome 
being  but  notice  in  advance  of  the  politer  recejjtion  in  store  for  us  by 


V 


,l[ 

i 

1 

A 

1 1- 

io6 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico, 


the  t^enerou--  master  himself.  Then  the  jjreat  house,  so  tomb-like  in 
its  present  silence,  would  have  been  noisy  as  a  populous  khan  in  an 
Orient  desert.     As  it  was.  we  halted  outside,  while  Santos  rode  in 


TIIK    "MliZO. 


\l 


throut,di  the  half-openeil  entrance  unchallenj<fed,  unsaluted.  We  heard 
the  iiools  of  his  horse  rin^j  the  echoes  of  tht-  arched,  but  dirty,  pas- 
sai^n;  to  the  [)ati().  Was  there  no  warder — no  steward?  1  )itl  the 
castle  keep  itself?  Our  uiozo  at  length  appeared  with  answer — a 
sleepy-looking  wretch  in  jacket  and  breeches  of  rusty  leather,  under 
a  great  sombrero  of  the  genuine  old  style,  and  withal  a  swagger  so 
easy-going,  yet  so  perfect  as  an  emphasized  insolenge,  that  only  the 
pi-ncil  can  tlo  it  justice. 

The  man  announced  himsc;lf  master  of  the  house,  and  gave  us 
permission  to  pass  the  night  within.  We  would  have  to  fmil  our 
own  beils ;  his  only  contribution  to  our  supper  wouUl  be  a  mess  of 
WAvm  /rijo/cs :  he  had  fodder  for  our  cattle,      .ly  dc  mi,  Zuloaga  ! 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Nortlicni  Mexico. 


107 


I.V    THE    1(1. AU    HIIKI-. 


To  l)c  sure,  there  was  no  l)arljican  defeiulint;-  the  entrance,  nor 
portciilHs  a-s\vin}.(  on  creakin<r  chains,  nor  overshadowed  i^rassj^^rown 
ditch  ;  yet,  as  we  roUed  in,  I  thouj^iu  of  liranksome  tower  ;  of  the 
stai(-hounds,  weary  of  the  chase,  and  asleep  upon  a  rushy  floor;  of 
the  kinsmen  of  the  bold  Muccleuch — the  nine  and  twenty  knij^hts  of 
fame,  of  whom  the  matchless  master  saiijLj : 

"  TIk'V  « arvcd  at  thi.'  nical 
With  gloves  of  steel. 
And  they  clrank  the  red  wine  through   the  lieiniet  ImrrM." 

A  very  martial  vision,  by  the  troth  of  a  pahulin  !  Hut  instead,  some 
nomadic  children  of  the  desert,  j^oinsj^,  the\  knew  not  where  nor  for 
what,  were  in  full  possession  of  the  patio,  resting;  happily  from  their 
travel  of  the  day. 

We  alighted  from  the  carriaj^e  in  a  scpiare  court-yard. — patio,  in 
the  Spanish, — paved  and  (juite  spacious.  On  the  four  sides  door- 
ways without  doors  yawned  darkly  at  us.  The  purposes  the  cham- 
bers served  in  the  jj^olden  time  I  knew  not;  when  we  found  them 
they  were  stables  ;  out  of  some,  thi;  loni,rdiorned  cattle  of  the  nomads 
looked,  bellowin*^  for  food  ;  into  others,  our  mules  were  taken. 


i^ffif 

T 

j|K4 

ft;. 

t-Hi 

!p» 

ill 

k;. 

i 

1 

a? 

P 

I 

1, 

''!i 

I 


io8 


^  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


rilK    SCIIOOI,    OK    TllK    I.ARIAT. 


"  There  is  plenty  of  room;  take  your  choici,"  he  of  the  mild  manner 
said,  when  we  spoke  of  disposin.ij  of  ourselves  for  the  night.  We  set 
out  forthwith  to  find  the  cleanest  and  best  aired  unoccupied  room. 

Throujrh  another  arched  passage,  into  another  square  court ; 
and  company,  nice-looking  people,  who  actually  arose  and  touched 
their  hats  to  us,  though  at  the  moment  of  our  appearance  they 
were  laughing  with  great  gusto.  Two  children  —  hrown-skinned, 
naked  little  fellows — had  opened  a  school  of  the  lariat,  for 
the  entertainment  of  the  strangers.  Gaunt  goats,  exceedingly  tall 
and  strong,  served  them  as  stt^eds  ;  a  g'  .ider  answered  for  game. 
They  rode  with  the  skill  of  monkeys  and  the  grace  of  cupids.     The 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Noytlicrn  Mexico. 


109 


INDBR    Till:    CIll.ONNAUK,' 


victim  fled,  hissing  and  cacklinif.  on  win^^s  of  fear.  When  at  Knirth 
the  loop  hitched  around  his  neck,  ti\e  exhiliition  was  at  an  eml,  and, 
|jayin<4  our  contribution,  we  went  our  way.  Next  day,  we  found  the 
pohte  jfentry  were  travelers  like  ourselves,  only  they  were  goinij  to 
Parras  from  Parral,  their  place  of  residence. 

On  into  the  heart  of  the  castle,  another  passage  and  another 
court, — this  latter  marked  by  lingering  remains  of  magnificence, — 
in  the  center  a  ruined  fountain,  and  on  all  sides  a  continuous  colon- 
nade with  fluted  pillars  and  chiseled  capitals.  There  were  reminders 
also  of  a  garden,  such  as  sunken  beds  thinly  garnished  with  flower- 
less  shrubs,  and  old  rose-trees  sickly  and  untended,  and  other  trees, 
amongst  which  I  recognized  a  languishing  orange  and  some  stunted 
figs.  Haifa  dozen  bananas,  their  leaves  unfur'ed  broail  and  bright 
as  new  banners,  arose  out  of  the  basin  of  the  fountain  in  undiminished 
vigor,  relieving  the  desolation  of  the  place,  and  filling  it  with  the 
glory  of  flame.  Here,  before  the  fatal  heart-break  struck  him,  Zulo- 
aga  and  his  guests  tasted  their  much  pleasance.  Under  the  colon- 
nade yonder  it  was  easy  to  imagine  the  hammocks    yet   swinging. 


';| 


w 


I  lO 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northcni  Mexico. 


IN     Till.    (OKKIIIOK. 


while  thi;  jrentlcfolk  smokoil,  read,  or  do/ecl  al)()iit  them  ;  incamvhilc, 
the  hirjresse  of  flowers  and  thi-  cantata  of  faHini;  \\al<rs.  'I'here,  at 
the  basin,  by  a  table,  in  the  shade  of  the  flarin<r  bananas,  the  prodi- 
gal master  iiseil   to  stanil  laughini;,  as,  dice-box   in    hand  and  high 


7  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northcni  Mexico. 


Ill 


overhead,  ho  rattled  thr  white  tessara-  careless  of  fortune,  so  soon 
;iiid  so  utterly  to  turn  ai^ainst  him.  i'Vom  that  room,  marked  by 
tilt  carven  iloor,  music  tlowiil  stream  like  out  into  the  moonlit 
court,  voices  of  women  U.-adin!:^.  heauliful  women  tau<,du  by  the 
iiiaeslros  of  I  )uranj(o,  may  be  by  the  maestros  of  the  capital.  Well, 
into  thai  room  we  went  —  in  honor  of  tlu;  shatle  of  the  ileparted,  1 
lt)()k  oH  m\  hat;  there,  loo,  were  traces  of  the  ^lory's  tinu;  —  tessel- 
lated Iloor,  frescoed  ceiling,  on  the  walls  frame-marks  of  pictures  and 


I'HK     I'ATKl. 


mirrors.  Ay  c/c  mi,  Zuloajj^a  !  Kvil  the  hour  War  came  in  grim- 
visagetl  and  cruel,  and  dispersed  the  waltzers,  the  singers,  and  the 
smokers,  and,  of  all  the  dainty  furniture,  left  us  but  one  long  table 
on  which  to  spreatl  our  |)allets  in  rest  of  our  weary  bones.  Needless 
to  say,  we  adojjted  the  table ;  it  was  hard,  but  it  lifted  us  above  the 
range  of  fleas,  and  the-n  —  ah,  if  the  gallant  Spaniard  should  wake 
from  his  sleep  antl  come  to  us  in  dreams !      I'lva  ! 

We  returned  then  to  the  first  patio  in  search  of  our  mozos, 
and  were  greatl)-  astonishixl  there.  The  house,  apparently  so 
deserted,  had  in  our  absence  given  up  an  unexpected  tenantry ; 
men,  women,  and  children — so  many  !  where  did  they  all  come 
from  ?  —  were    crowded     around     a    delicate-looking    shepherd    lad 


w, 


I. 


■I       \ 


I  12 


^  Buffalo  Hunt  ///  Noythcrn  Mexico. 


who  sat  on  a  touj,'h   little  jenny  telling  a  story,  to  which  we  also 
gave  instant  ear. 

About  noon,  he  said,  while  with  his  flock  in  the  desert,  he  had 
seen  away  across  the  pastiira  a  black  mass  come  slowly  toward  him, 
spreading  as  it  came.  Indians  it  was  not;  he  rode  toward  it,  and — 
Madrc  dc  Dios  !  it  was  a  herd  of  buffaloes.  .And  thereupon  every 
one  in  the  patio  listening  took  fire,  and  cried  Madrc  dc  Dios!  One  of 
the  gentlemen  bound  down  the  road  to  Parras,  cooler  than  the  rest, 
pushed  through  the  excited  throng  and  put  to  the  lad  a  .series  of 
questions. 

"  Buftaloes,  did  you  say  ? ' 

"  Yes,  sir. 
How  far  out  were  they  ?  " 

••  I'Vom  here? " 

-  Yes." 

"  .About  three  leagues." 

"  In  what  direction  were  they  moving?  " 

"  From  the  sun." 

The  lad  meant  to  say  northward. 

"  Was  it  a  big  herd  ?  " 

"  V-'ery  big,  sir.     I  could  not  count  them." 

"A  thousand  ? " 

"  Oh,  many  more,  sir." 

We  were  satisfied,  my  friends  and  I,  and  walked  away,  leaving 
the  patio  all  calcitrant  with  e.xcitement.     Soon  the  strangers  followed 

us.     One  of  them  introduced  himself  as  Don   Miguel  de (the 

last  of  the   name   has  slipped   my  memory),  a  merchant  of  Santa 
Rosalia,  going  to  Parras  for  a  supply  of  /jum/ir — coarse  cotton  stuff. 

"We  have  about  concluded,"  he  said,  "to  lie  over  to-morrow  and 
go  hunting.  It  has  been  many  years  since  buffalo  came  so  far  south; 
in  fact,  we  cannot  any  of  us  remember  to  have  heard  of  such  a  visi- 
tation in  these  parts.  The  opportunity  is  too  rare  and  good  to  be 
lost.  Will  )ou  go  with  us,  gentlemen  ?  We  shall  be  delighted  with 
your  company." 

My  friend,  the  colonel,  had  been  a  soldier  from  beginning  to  end 
of  the  great  war,  and  earned  his  title  ;  now,  en  passant,  his  name  is  a 
familiar  one  in  Brazil  and  in  the  far  up-country  Bolivia,  whose  land- 
lock  he  is  about  to  break.     They  know  him,  too,  in  the  tight  little 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


113 


Tin;    STAKT. 


isle  when!  to  he  known  ar^^ues  a  merit  out  of  the  common.  His  spirit 
arose  at  the  su<rue.stion  of  the  courteous  Mexican  ;  he  spoke  to  me,  then 
repHetl  that  nothinj^'  would  make  us  happier,  only  we  had  no  horses. 

Don  Miii^uel  smiled. 

"You  cannot  have  been  loni^;  in  thest:  parts,"  he  said.  "  Horses 
here  are  to  he  had  for  the  askin<;'.      We  will  see  you  supplied." 

The  offer  was  accepted,  ami  the  party  was  to  start  at  five  o'clock 
next  morning,  under  ij^uidance  of  the  shepherd. 

Pakt   11.     Tin:   Hint. 


W'l;    did    not    sj^et    starteil    till    day,   thoujj^h    we   breakfasted   by 
candle-liy^ht.      The  sally  from  the  patio  in  which,  midst  the  confu- 
sion and  the  seethe  and  boil  of  several  tempests  in  an  unclean  tea- 
8 


¥'. 


\ 


\ 


V 


I) 


114 


^/  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


HTSPT 


.''^  1^^ 


,^., 


•='V„y.«i. 


'>%W; 


>.  » ^ 


^,»^gVj^. 


^«r,   .^ 


A    GROUP    OF    VAQUEROS. 


pot,  the  final  preparations  were  made  was  like  a  charge  of  untrained 
cavalr\' ;  nor  might  one  have  said  which  were  most  excited,  the 
horses  or  the  men.  For  a  mile  or  more,  after  the  exit,  there  was 
furious  racing  through  a  dense  cloud  of  dust.  When  at  last  we 
drew  together  and  halted  to  let  the  guide  front,  we  found  the  party, 
about  twenty  in  number,  all  Mexicans  but  the  colonel  and  myself 
Mr.  Roth  had  declined  the  sport. 

"  Who  are  these  people  ?  "  I  asked. 

Don  Miguel  glanceil  over  the  motley  crowd. 

"  Oiiicn  sabc,  sc/ior/"    ("Who  knows,  sir?") 

I  called  Santos  and  asked  him  the  question.  The  good  fellow 
immediately  rode  here  and  there  amongst  them,  and  returned  with 
this  answer : 

"//ay  vauclicros — todos."     ("They  are  all  rancheros.") 

A  raiic/icro  is  an  independent  son  of  the  Mexican  soil,  generally 
a  renter  of  lands,  always  owner  of  a  horse,  on  which  he  may  be  said 
to  live  and  have  his  being.  To-day  a  cattle-herder  (vaqncyo),  to- 
morrow a  soldier,  this  week  a  gambler,  next  week  a  robber :  with 
all  his  sins,  and  they  are  as  his  hairs  in  number,  he  has  one  supreme 


-7  Buffalo  Hi  nit  in  Nortluni  Mexico. 


"5 


excellence — you  may  not  match  him  the  world  over  as  a  ruler,  not 
thoiigli  you  set  against  him  the  most  peerless  of  the  turhaned  knij^hts 
of  the  jcrcciL  Once  it  was  my  fortune  to  see  a  thousand  rauc/icros, 
in  iiuliilay  jj;arb  and  mounted,  sweep  down  at  a  run  to  meet  President 
Juarez,  then  en  route  to  begin  his  final  campaign  against  the  hapless 
1  lapshurger.  They  literally  glistened  with  silver — silver  on  saddle 
and  bridle,  silver  on  jacket  and  trowsers,  silver  on  hats,  silver  on 
heels  ;  and,  as  with  X'izuts  long  and  shrilly  intoned,  anil  stabs  of  rowel 
merciless  and  maddening,  they  drove  their  mustangs — the  choicest 
of  the  wild  herds  —  headlong  forward,  the  spectacle  was  stirring 
rnough  to  have  made  the  oldest  hetman  of  the  Cossacks  young 
again.  Xo  wonder  Kleber  never  ceased  admiration  of  the  Mame- 
lukes who  charged  his  scjuares  over  the  yellow  sands  under  the  Pyra- 
initls.  These,  my  com  pane  ros  of  the  hunt,  were  not  in  holiday  attire, 
riieir  clothes  were  plain  tan-colored  leather,  yet  they  rode  like  the 
thousand,  and  when  I  looked  in  their  faces  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  tribal  relation.  The  rancheros  of  the  desert  of  Durango  are 
lineally  akin  to  the  rancheros  of  Tamaulipas  and  their  brothers  of 
Sonora. 

My  friend  and  I  were  well  mounted, —  Don  Miguel  had  dealt 
fairly  by  us, — yet  we  could  not  ride  like  the  Mexicans.  Their  system 
is  essentially  different  from  ours;  whereas  we  use  the  rein  for  every 
movement  of  the  horse, — forward,  right,  left,  backward,  check, — 
they  will  ride  all  day  keeping  it  loose  over  the  little  finger;  a  press- 
ure of  the  knee,  an  inclination  of  the  body,  a  wave  of  the  bridle  hand, 
in  extreme  cases  a  plunge  of  the  spur,  are  their  resorts.  A  pull  on 
one  of  their  bits,  one  pull  such  as  our  jockeys  are  accustomed  to  at 
the  end  of  a  race,  would  drive  the  beasts  mad,  if  it  did  not  make  fine 
splinters  of  their  jaws. 

In  connection  with  the  excellences  of  my  comrades,  it  may  be 
well  to  add  that  their  arms  were  of  every  variety,  from  a  Sharpe's 
repeater  to  an  escopcla,  some  of  the  latter  being  iilentical  with  the 
bell-mouthed  blunderbusses  of  good  Queen  Hess.  I  noticed  one 
which  hail  on  it  a  stamp  of  the  Tower ;  it  was  smit  with  a  devouring 
leprosy  of  rust,  and  looked  as  if  Raleigh  or  one  of  the  later  bucca- 
neers had  taken  it  from  the  old  arsenal  and  dropped  it  overboard, 
as  he  sailed  and  sailed.  \'erily,  I  had  rather  been  a  buffalo  fired  at 
with  such  a  piece,  than  the  hunter  at  the  other  end  to  do  the  firing. 


^i  ' 

k    i 

" 

ii6 


^/  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


Wo  moved  rapidly  i\\on\f  a  plain  roatl ;  after  a  leaj^iie  or  more, 
the  road  faded  into  a  dim  patii  ;  anotiier  leaj^iie,  and  we  were  in  the 
mid-desert.  Moved  i)y  the  novelty  of  the  situation,  1  let  the  party 
pass  me,  tliat  I  might  he  alone, 

Afira  /  \  work!  of  j^rass,  each  blade  brown  or  yellowinj^  on  the 
stalk,  not  dyinj^  so  much  as  curinj;  itself — just  far  enouj^h  j^one  to 
rustle  at  the  touches  of  the  winnowinj^  winds  ;  a  world  of  j^rass  with- 
out a  flower,  nor  even  a  wee  anemone.  The  trees  are  few  in  number 
and  variety.  Off  yonder  is  a  solitary  cabbatje-palm,  tall,  shajj^gy, 
crowned  with  a  shock  of  green  bayonets ;  it  stanils  motionless,  the 
image  of  a  listening  watchman.  Here  and  there  groves  thinly  fleck 
the  broad  brown  face  on  which  they  endure,  in  the  distance  wear- 
ing the  air  of  neglected  apple- orchards.  The)-  are  mescpiite  trees, 
for  whicii  1  confess  partiality,  not  for  their  beauty,  but  for  their 
coiiraor.  The  idea  and  the  word,  as  applied,  may  startle  the  reader ; 
yet  I  sometimes  please  myself  thinking  that  in  the  kingdom  of  plants 
there  is  a  degree  of  the  royal  (piality.  The  lichen,  up  in  the  realm 
of  the  reindeer,  and  the  willow,  which  survives  long  burial  by  the 
snows  everlastingly  whitening  the  echoless  shores  of  Lincoln  Sea, 
must  be  braver  than  the  palm  on  the  Nile  or  the  redwood  on  the 
Amazon.  .So  with  the  mesquite  of  the  desert.  .Ah,  here  is  one  of 
them  close  by, — knotted,  gnarled,  dwarfed,  brittle,  black  of  bark, 
vaster  of  root  than  top,  yet  with  a  certain  grace  derived  from  its 
small,  emerald  green  leaves,  so  delicately  set  on  trembling  fronds. 
I  have  only  to  look  at  it  once  to  recognize  a  hero,  not  of  many 
tilts  with  storms,  but  of  an  endless  battle  with  drought  and  burning 
sun,  living  sometimes  years  on  nothing  but  faintest  dews.  Is  it 
wonderful  that  it  grew  branching  from  the  ground  so  low  as  to  be 
trunkless?  Or  that  its  limbs  separated  in  the  beginning,  and  did 
their  feeble  climbing  wider  and  wider  apart  each  day  of  life,  as  hate- 
ful of  each  other  and  the  humble  stem  which  generated  them  ?  Or 
that  at  last,  when  full  grown,  yet  comparatively  a  shrub  of  low 
degree,  thin  and  wan  of  foliage,  its  shade  ill  suffices  to  cool  the 
gophers  nestling  down  deep  amongst  its  sprawling  roots,  or  the 
crickets,  panting  as  they  .sing  in  the  gray  mosses  of  uncertain  life, 
stitched  like  prickly  patches  on  its  weather  side  ? 

Nevertheless,  the  tree  was  disposed  to  serve  me.  As  I  looked  at 
it,  thinking  of  its  struggle  for  life,  I  was  conscious  of  a  warning, — 
what  if  I  should  get  lost  ? 


gri*jg»/<^.^ii<y*t 


illiAU    OV    .\Mi;kH\N     lIL'l'IAl.H    (lllSdN     AM1.KIC AMs). 


IlKAUS    in     lAMKS   t.    IIKAKl). 


S.v 


^ 


!l 


It 


S 
c 

P 

P 
k 

k 

P 
d 

tc 

Ol 

hi 

V( 

hi 


t   I 


'sssssssmm 


A  Buffalo  Hinit  in  Northern  Mexico. 


119 


I  glanced  at  the  sun,  that  first  compass  of  the  first  hunters,  and 
rose  in  my  stirrups  essayinj,'  to  single  out  the  direction  to  the  house 
of  Zuloaga.  To  point  the  locality  of  the  Spaniard's  I<'ountain  of 
Youth  had  been  as  easy.  Oh,  you  say,  tiie  path  of  coming  was 
plain  !  Yes,  but — as  I  found  before  the  day  was  done  —  that  path 
was  one  of  millions  winding  in  and  out,  never  a  skein  of  silk  so  hope- 
lessly tangled,  in  and  out  as  impossible  of  straightening  by  a  novice 
like  me  as  some  sail  lives  we  all  have  known  ;  paths  worn  by  wolves 
galloping  in  howling  packs  through  the  South  moonlight ;  deer 
paths;  and  paths  known  only  to  the  unlovely  red  children  of  Uncle 


TIIK    TANGLE    OK    PATHS. 
a. —  HoiiHe  of  Zuloaga.     h. —  KNUnqtie. 

Sam,  who  perennially  tear  down  that  way  for  scalps  of  women  and 
children  and  the  loot  of  undefended  ranchos ;  paths  now  along  the 
prairie,  now  through  the  chaparral,  devious  and  past  following  and 
past  finding  when  once  lost  as  the  flight  of  swallows.  Oh,  if  I  did 
know  the  right  one  amongst  the  multiplied  zigzag  many,  and  could 
keep  it  in  shade  and  shine — keep  it  truly  against  the  tempting 
promises  of  this  and  that  other  so  friendly  and  familiar-looking,  then 
doubtless  I  could  make  the  house.  Not  caring  to  make  the  trial,  or 
to  be  put  to  the  necessity  of  making  it,  I  snatched  the  rein  and  gave 
spur  to  my  willing  horse. 

The  gallop  was  over  a  great  pashira,  one  of  the  sheep-ranges  of 
our  little  guide.  I  did  not  like  the  life  of  the  lad. — following  the 
flock  as  he  does  day  after  day,  without  other  companionship  except  of 
his  dog  and  donkey,  must  be  lonesome, — yet  it  is  not  altogether 
void  of  charm.  The  glories  of  the  enchanter  Distance  are  about 
him  everywhere.     If  from  grasses  crinkling  under  foot,  and  dwarfed 


I20 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


i  I 


A    MAGUKY    FIKLD. 


trees  scarce  vigorous  enough  to  cover  their  nakedness  with  the  sug- 
gestion of  fohage,  he  gazes  off  over  them  all,  who  ever  saw  a  horizon 
with  a  span  so  very,  very  wide  ?  If  he  looks  higher  to  the  sky,  nay  into 
it,  how  the  blue  inverted  bowl  widens  and  deejiens  as  the  clear  eye 
shears  on,  on,  through  depths  to  other  depths  immeasurable  !  And 
looking,  lo  !  out  of  them,  by  some  deft  magic, — out  of  the  remove  of 
horizon  or  the  added  depths  of  sky,  illusions  most  likely  of  atmos- 
phere absolutely  purified,  or  out  of  them  all,  it  may  Ik;, —  the;  En- 
chanter evolves  for  me  all  the  effects  of  space.  Did  it  the  same  for 
him  ?     And  did  he  feel  them  as  I  did  ? 

W'e  came  at  length  to  a  body  of  water,  in  the  Mexican,  an  cstamjiic ; 
in  English,  a  pond.     Off  a  little  way  a  herd   of  sheep  and   goats, 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


121 


f^i 


M. 


i^ 


thousands  in  number,  having  slaked  their  thirst,  were  wending 
slowly  to  fresh  feeding-groiinds.  A  man,  joint  keeper  with  our 
guide,  sat  by  the  shore  preparing  his  humble  breakfast.  Then  I 
knew  how  the  pond  made  life  possible  out  so  far  in  the  afflicted 
land.  The  radius  of  the  migration  of  herd  and  herdsmen  might  be 
wide  enough  to  take  in  the  mountain  showing  off  to  our  right,  like  a 
dab  of  purple  pigment.  Whatever  its  boundarj-,  however,  this  was 
its  center — this  rippling  sheet,  clear  and  bright  enough  to  live  in  my 
memory  another  Diamond  of  the  Desert. 

While  the  horses  drank,  and  some  of  the  more  careful  ranchcros 
refilled  the  water-gourds  they  habitually  carried  at  their  saddle-bows, 
Don  Miguel  and  the  colonel  interviewed  the  herdsmen,  whose  re- 
plies were  very  satisfactory.  Our  game  had  spent  the  night  in  the 
vicinity ;  the  water  the  other  side  of  the  pond  was  muddy  with  their 
wading ;  he  had  even  made  fires  to  drive  them  away,  and  they  left 
about  sunup,  going  toward  the  mountains. 

"You  see  the  trees  yonder?"  he  said;  "well,  two  bulls  were 
there  not  an  hour  ago,  fighting  ;  they  may  be  there  now.  Ouicn 
sa/h\  sc/lon's/" 

"  It  is  but  a  minute's  ride — shall  we  go?"  said  Don  Miguel  to 
the  colonel.  The  latter  called  to  me ;  ne.\t  moment  we  were  off, 
leaving  the  party  to  follow  as  they  severally  made  ready. 

I  remember  yet  the  excitement  of  that  ride,  the  eagerness  and 
expectancy  with  which  we  neared  the  knot  of  trees,  our  dash  through, 
])istol  in  hand.  In  quiet  hours  I  hear  the  shout  with  which  the 
colonel  brought  us  together.  In  an  opening  scarce  twenty  yards 
square  lay  a  dying  bull.  He  was  of  prodigious  girth,  and  covered 
head  and  shoulders  with  a  coat  of  sunburnt  hair  to  shame  a  lion. 
Long,  tangled  locks,  matted  with  mud  and  burs,  swathed  his  forelegs 
clown  to  the  hoofs.  The  ponderous  head  of  the  brute  rested  help- 
lessly upon  the  rotting  trunk  of  a  palm-tree;  the  tongue  hung  from 
his  bloody  lips  ;  his  eyes  were  dim,  and  his  breath  came  and  went  in 
mighty  gasps.  The  death-wound  was  in  his  flank,  a  horrible  sick- 
ening rent.  The  earth  all  about  bore  witness  to  the  fury  of  the  duel. 
Long  time  he  confronted  his  foe,  and  held  him  with  locked  horns  ;  at 
last,  he  slipped  his  guard — that  broad  forehead  with  its  crown  of 
Jove-like  curls  —  and  was  lost.  Who  could  doubt  that  the  victor 
was  worth  pursuit  ? 


' 


;    i 


122 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Noytlicrn  Mexico. 


We  helped  the  unfortunate  to  a  speedier  death,  and  Hngered  to 
observe  him.      His  travels  had  been  far,  be<jinnin<r  doubtless  up 

•'In  the  land  of  the  Dakotah," 

whence  winter  drove  him  with  all  his  herd  clown  the  murky  Missouri. 
On  the  Platte  somewhere  he  passed  the  second  summer ;  then,  from 
the  hunting  of  the  Sioux  and  their  fierce  kinsmen,  he  escaped  into 
Colorado  ;  after  a  year  of  rest,  in  search  of  better  pastures,  he  pushed 
southward  again,  lingering  in  the  fields  about  the  head- waters  of 
the  Arkansas ;  there  the  bold  riders  of  the  Comanche  found  him  ; 
breaking  from  them,  he  disappeared  for  a  time  in  the  bleak  wilder- 
ness called  The  Staked  Plains ;  thence  to  the  Rio  Grande,  and  across 
into  Chihuahua,  the  pursuer  still  at  his  heels ;  and  now  there  was  an 
end  of  travel  and  persecution.  As  we  returned  from  the  chase,  I  saw 
him  again,  lying  where  we  found  him,  a  banquet  for  the  whimpering 
wolves.     Already  he  was  despoiled  of  his  tongue. 

The  incident,  as  may  be  thought,  whetted  the  ardor  of  the  party 
to  the  sharpest  edge.  A  wide  interval  stretched  between  us  and  the 
mountain  toward  which  the  game  had  disappeared ;  in  some  of  the 
long  swales  ahead  we  knew  they  were  feeding ;  possibly  we  might 
strike  them  before  nuon  ;  nobody  felt  tired.  Santos  rode  forward  at 
a  canter ;  we  followed  in  a  body,  saying  little,  but  never  so  observ- 
ant. Two  more  miles  were  put  behind.  Suddenly,  as  the  mozo  was 
making  the  ascent  of  a  long  up-grade,  he  stopped,  and,  turning  in 
his  saddle  and  pointing  forward,  shouted:  "  Ola,  los  hitfalos!" 

Not  a  man  but  felt  a  great  heart-beat  and  a  thrill  which  shocked 
him  from  head  to  foot.  As  at  command,  we  raised  the  guns,  lying 
across  the  -^addles  before  us.  As  at  command,  too,  we  all  broke  into 
a  gallop.     Santos,  like  a  sensible  fellow,  came  back  to  meet  us. 

"Where  are  they?"  everybody  asked  in  a  breath. 

"Just  over  the  hill,"  he  answered,  suppressing  his  excitement. 

"  Are  there  many  of  them?"  I  asked. 

"  Caramlm,  scfior !  We  cannot  kill  them  all  before  night." 

We  gained  the  top  of  the  grade,  and  there  they  were  —  not  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away,  grazing  slowly  onward  —  los  dcuionios  del 
Norte. 

To  the  left,  under  a  well-grown  tree,  I  caught  sight  of  one, 
solemn,   sedate,  magnificent  in   proportion,  magnificently  draped  in 


M. 


HlmiMli i«"i  w-amifm'^l'^ 


A  Buffalo  Huut  in  Nortlicyn  Mexico. 


123 


iiwM&4yj|^MMH|k% 

fej.;, 

l^UM.'s^'    -3 

^^wdH^^^I^MlllritJiijiL.' 

■'.?.■    ^  ... :ISBB^igr4g'*'**'''"^JT!IM>""l     ,'•->'"      «''^,- 

'^^^^?!^'^^^^^^*^*^'-,^«,|^U- 

!,, 

'^  .-^'^anapwgjr^ 

1  'Tf  If  11  "■*•  ii'v"'"Ti  'm!^^^ ■~~^^;7 "     -Ij^" -a             ^-'.r:"^" 

^jSiP-^**^^ 

\, 

OUR    FIRST    VIEW    OF    THK     HERD. 


flying  fur.  He  alone  kept  his  place  motionless  and  with  full  front 
toward  us,  the  perfect  picture  of  confidence,  self-collection,  and  power 
of  toujrhened  thews  in  wakeful  repose.  In  every  flock  of  living  things 
there  is  a  sentinel  who  watches,  a  philosopher  who  thinks,  a  law- 
maker who  ordains,  a  king  who  governs  ;  and  there  they  were  all  in 
one — and  more,  he  was  the  victor  of  the  morning's  duel.  I  knew  it 
all  with  the  certainty  of  intuition. 

The  exceeding  peacefulness  of  the  scene  was  not  lost  on  me,  and 
the  monitor  of  the  low  voice  did  some  whispering  ;  but  —  my  blood 
was  running  races.  The  heart  was  beating  in  my  throat,  and  the  hot 
parch  of  the  hunter's  fever  was  on  my  tongue.  Pity  there  is  no 
gauge  for  the  measurement  of  a  man's  excitement  of  spirit ;  some- 
thing of  the  kind  should  be  our  next  great  gift  from  the  wiseacres ; 
and  then,  if  the  invention  should  happily  be  simple  of  reference  and 
easy  of  portage  like  a  pencil  or  a  knife,  we  could  have  with  us  always 
a  doctor  to  save  us  from  apoplexies,  anil  a  guardian  to  say  stop  at 
that  point  in  our  pleasures  where  conscience  is  in  the  habit  of  obtrud- 
ing, like  the  ghost  at  the  banquet. 

We  had  no  thought  of  strategy — scattering,  flanking,  heading 
off  had  no  places  in  our  heads,  and  without  an  inquir)-  from  us  the 
wind  continued  to  blow  as  it  listed.  A  common  impulse  seized 
every  man  and  communicated  to  every  horse.  ;\  shout,  some  fierce 
gouging  with  rowels,  and  away  we  dashed  pell-mell,  guns  in  hand, 


*-i^ 


m 


'       ! 


f 

1 


\k  ''    5  .      ! 


Iill 


!n       i 


124 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  ill  NoH/icni  Mexico. 


Don  Miguel  in  the  lead.  The  startled  herd,  executing  a  volt  to  the 
rear,  stood  a  moment  at  bay.  The  king  under  the  tree  shook  his 
crowned  head,  and  viewed  us  askance.  Ha!  ha!  was  he  scared? 
Or,  like  a  veteran  general,  was  he  coolly  counting  the  odds  before 
resolving  on  battle.'*  If,  at  a  signal,  his  army  had  closed  cii  viasse 
and  charged  us  horns  down,  what  a  hurry-scurrying  rearward  there 
would  have  been  on  our  part!  But  no — he  had  heard  the  whoop  of 
assault  before,  and  knew  all  its  significance.  The  pause  was  from 
curiosity,  as  natural  to  his  kind  as  to  a  high-bred  lady.  We  heard 
his  bellow,  ragged  as  the  mot  of  a  Mexican  trumpet ;  then  he  went 
right-about;  whereat  there  was  a  general  stampede — a  blind  saitvc 
qui  pent,  which,  interpreted  literally,  means,  may  the  devil  take  the 
hindmost.  Away  they  went,  all  alike,  the  king  forgetful  of  his 
dignity,  and  all  the  queens  for  once  at  lea.st  self-dependent. 

Now,  if  the  reader  will  resolve  a  buffalo  into  a  machine  and  make 
study  of  his  locomotive  capacities,  it  will  be  seen  he  was  not  made 
for  speed.  He  is  too  weak  in  the  hind-(iuarters,  too  jjonderous  in 
the  fore ;  and  as  if  the  fatted  hump  on  his  shoulder  were  not  a  suffi- 
cient handicap  of  the  j)oor  brute.  Nature  fashioned  his  head  after  the 
model  of  a  pork-barrel,  and  hung  it  so  low  as  to  be  directly  in  the 
way  of  his  forefeet — the  very  reverse  of  a  horse  or  a  deer.  .1  for- 
tiori, as  the  lawyers  are  so  fond  of  sajing,  he  does  not  leap  when  in 
flight,  but  rolls  and  plunges,  like  a  porpoise  at  pla)-.  In  short,  there 
would  have  been  shame  everlasting  in  the  house  of  Zuloas^a  if  our 
mustangs,  outfliers  of  the  desert  winds,  had  failed  to  overtake  the 
lumbering  fugitives  in  less  than  a  half  mile. 

I  do  not  know  what  my  companions  did — a  quick  concentrating 
of  self  seized  me,  insomuch  that  I  became  to  the  world  else  the 
merest  husk  of  a  purpose  ;  the  circumstances  of  the  charge,  those 
the  eye  catches  and  those  the  ear  hears,  looks,  actions,  words,  yell ; 
even  the  stirring  rataplan  of  the  horses'  drumming  hoofs  and  the 
deep  )ass  earth-rumble  of  the  game  in  multitudinous  flight  —  all 
failed  my  perception  ;  for  as  we  drew  near  the  chase  one  straggler 
claimed  my  attention  —  a  heifer,  clean  built  and  clean  of  hide.  She 
was  running  freely,  and  could  have  made  better  speed  but  for  the 
slower  hulks  in  her  way.  I  had  a  thought  that  she  might  make 
better  meat  than  the  bigger  specimens,  and  yet  another,  she  might 
be  more  easily  killed ;   and  to  kill  her  I  bent  every  faculty. 


iiji  ■luj*:'"'!*." 


fcimi>-ww  <■"■  ""P  ■■ 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


NOW,    iikk! 


125 


The  mustang  caught  the  spur;  forward — close — closer — by 
bending  in  the  saddle  I  could  have  laid  hand  on  my  prey  ;  then, 
fully  conscious  that  she  was  singled  out,  how  she  struggled  to  get 
away  !  How  the  muscles  of  her  flanks  swelled  and  knotted  in  des- 
perate exertion  !  The  time  came  to  use  mj-  Winchester.  I  selected 
the  place  to  shoot  at,  just  behind  the  shoulder,  and  brought  the 
rifle  down.  Goodness  !  1  was  left  of  the  game,  when,  being  right- 
handed,  I  should  have  gone  to  the  right.  Three  times  1  tried  to  get 
aim,  but  in  vain.  I  laid  the  gun  across  the  saddle,  and  drew  my 
pistol  —  a  Smith  &  Wesson,  the  best  of  revolvers  then,  yet  not  near 
so  good  as  now  ;  for  that  1  was  in  place.  T'orward  again,  and  closer 
in — closer — now,  fire  !  The  bullet  lodged  in  the  shoulder.  Again, 
and  in  the  heart;  hurrah!  INIy  horse  shied;  the  rifle  fell  to  the 
ground ;  I  barely  escaped  tumbling  after ;  the  victim  moaned,  stag- 
gered, stumbled,  fell.  Aye,  count  me  one ;  and,  better  yet,  count  me 
the  KiKsr  (JNK ! 


•-1  4 


m 


!  i 


^ 


t^ 


i  h' 


126 


^  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


Upon  coming  to, — observe  all  the  words  imply, —  I  was  dis- 
mounted, and  in  the  act  of  picking  up  my  gun.  The  conduct  of  man 
was  never  more  purely  instinctive  than  mine  had  been  throughout. 
I  make  the  confession  without  shame,  for  1  am  not  of  those  who 
believe  thought  must  govern  and  direct  what  all  we  do,  other- 
wise there  is  no  credit.  In  cases  of  peril  bullet-swift,  to  wait  on 
reflection  is  to  die.  Instinct  moves  us  ;  we  obey,  and  live.  Thought 
implies  conditions,  and  a  final  judgment  upon  them  ;  instinct  implies 
instant  action — something  dull  men  are  incapable  of. 

Let  me  pass  the  pride  and  happiness  of  that  triumphant  moment. 
The  fisherman  who  has  landed  the  traditional  trout  of  a  famous 
brook,  or  a  ten-pound  golden  salmon  from  the  golden  beds  of  the 
Kankakee,  can  tell  you  my  feelings ;  and  to  enable  a  hunter  to  inter- 
pret for  me,  it  is  only  recjuired  that  he  should  have  bagged  a  wild 
goose,  flying  full-quilled  from  the  Arctics. 

The  mustang  was  at  last  reduced  to  (juiet ;  then  I  looked  about. 
The  huntsmen  and  the  herd  were  out  of  sight  in  a  trough  of  the 
land  ahead ;  yells  and  frequent  shots  signaled  their  whereabouts. 
Not  another  carcass  was  to  be  seen ;  I  had  made  the  first  capture ; 
what  if  it  should  be  the  only  one  ?  While  so  thinking, — the  faintest 
semblance  of  a  selfish  wish  lurking  under  the  reflection, — suddenly 
the  noise  ceased.  Strange  !  Something  had  certainly  occurred.  I 
swung  into  the  saddle ;  then  up  from  the  hollow  rode  a  ranchcro, 
coming  to  speak  to  me,  I  supposed ;  he  went  by  like  a  ricochetting 
shot.  Others  appeared ;  the  same  haste  possessed  them,  only  they 
shou  jd  :  '' Pricsa,  scnor !  Los  Indios,  los  Iinlios  f"  ("  Make  haste, 
sir!     Indians,  Indians!") 

Ah,  the  cursed  Apaches ! 

The  interruption  was  not  an  agreeable  one  ;  in  fact,  the  effect 
was  decidedly  chilling ;  yet  I  managed  to  control  myself  and  ride 
forward.  The  last  of  the  mnclicros  passed  in  flight ;  only  the  colonel, 
Don  Miguel,  his  friends,  and  Santos  and  Teodora,  remained. 

"  What's  up  now?" 

The  colonel  answered  coolly: 

"  The  fellows  say  they  came  upon  Indians  in  the  grass  down 
yonder.     I  think  they  are  lying." 

Don  Miguel  shrugged  his  shoulders  nearly  to  the  top  of  his  head, 
and  fairly  hissed : 


,iiitfli6SSS^ 


A  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Noyflicni  Mexico. 


127 


"  It  is  nothinir,  sir,"  with  an  expression  of  contempt  without  an 
cMiuivalent  in  Entjlish. 

Santos  touched  his  hat,  indicating  a  wish  to  speak. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  I  asked  him. 

"There  are  no  Indians  there." 

"No?" 

"  I  stopped  one  of  the  men  long  enough  to  have  him  show  me 
where  the  amijush  was,  and "  he  laughed  heartily. 

"Well  ?"  1  said,  impatiently. 

"And  the  buffaloes  had  run  right  over  the  place." 

We  looked  at  each  other  curiously.  Don  Miguel  suggested  we 
go  see  for  ourselves,  and  the  colonel  supported  him  with  a  round 
declaration  that  they  had  taken  eight  or  ten  good  fat  cows,  and  he 
didn't  like  to  run  away  from  them  to  accommodate  anybody,  much 
less  a  thieving  Apache.     A  reconnoissance  was  determined  upon. 

We  rode  into  the  hollow  and  up  it,  cautiously  following  the  trail 
of  the  herd. 

"  Hist !  "  cried  .Santos,  a  little  in  advance.     "  Look  there  !  " 

We  looked,  and  were  startled.  Not  twenty  yards  away  stood  a 
sorrel  pony  rudely  housed  in  Indian  style.  At  sight  of  us  it  raised 
its  head  and  whinnied  pitcously.  Santos  went  to  it,  and  stooped  to 
catch  the  lariat  about  its  neck. 

"■  Jesu  C/irisiof"  he  yelled  as  if  shot.  I  thought  he  would  roll 
out  of  his  saddle. 

"  For  love  of  God,  gentlemen,  come  and  see,"  he  next  exclaimed. 

We  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  going. 

"  Caramba  !  "  said  Don  Miguel,  reining  back. 

Then  the  colonel  blew  a  long  whistle  of  disgust,  as  well  he  might. 
An  Indian  warrior  was  lying  face  downward  in  the  grass  at  the  fore- 
feet of  the  pony — dead  I  The  stampede  of  the  nuichcros  was 
explained. 

A  worn  knife,  butcher's  pattern  ;  a  hatchet,  such  as  plasterers 
use  ;  a  redwood  bow,  short  but  broad,  and  variously  painted  on  the 
back  ;  a  (piiver  of  arrows  :  a  lance,  of  the  Mexican  sort ;  a  dirty 
clay-pipe,  in  a  dirty  bag  of  raw  tobacco — were  the  assets  of  the  dead 
man. 

In  the  division  of  spoils,  my  friend  the  colonel  took  two  feathers 
found  in  the  scalp-lock,  indicative,  as   he  was   pleased  to  believe,  of 


(     ., 


I 


!l 


^li 


|-1 

Hi 


128 


^  Buffalo  Hunt  in  Northern  Mexico. 


the  hij^h  rank  of  the  deceased.  A  pair  of  moccasins,  taken  from  the 
saddle,  fell  to  me  ;  they  were  unworn,  and  soft  as  a  castor  j^love.  I 
have  them  )et.  and  keep  them  because  they  were  beaded  b)-  the 
warrior's  love,  the  daughter  of  an  arrow-maker  who  lives  in  a  painted 
tepee  off  over  the  Sierras,  by  the  loud-singing,  but  lonely,  Gila.  A 
visitor  now  and  then  comes  and  casts  a  doubt  upon  the  tale  of  the 
moccasins ;   but  he  always  leaves  me  in  disfavor. 

We  agreed  to  attribute  the  end  of  the  savage  to  ugliness,  compli- 
cated with  original  sin.  When  the  shepherds  were  told  about  him, 
they  turned  pale  and  crossed  themselves.  They  knew  why  he  was 
in  wait  where  death  found  him.  mercifully  for  them. 

It  remains  to  say  the  discovery  finished  the  hunt. 

The  Indian's  pony,  seven  superb  buffalo  hides,  and  any  amount 
of  meat,  were  our  trophies.  The  bivouac  by  the  cs/atupic  that  night 
was  savory  with  the  smell  of  roasting  joints,  and  ne.xt  day.  when  we 
bade  adieu  to  Don  Miguel  and  his  friends  at  the  door  of  the  house 
of  Zuloaga.  all  the  patios  were  beautiful  with  festoonery,  which,  at  the 
end  of  a  week,  was  taken  down,  weighed,  and  divided.  No  one  ever 
tasted  better  canic  scat. 


j 

If 

1 .,  : 

■»'■■ 

'  V 

ii: 

V 

!ii 

ii 

! 

.1 

THE  NORTH  AM1':RICAN  CHRVTD.H. 


(IKORC.K    BIRD    C.RINNKl.l,,    I'll.    1). 


THl''  deer  family  includes  the  most  important  of  our  larjje  j^ame 
animals.  Deer,  of  one  species  or  another,  are  found  throuj^h- 
out  the  whole  of  North  America,  from  within  the  Arctic  circle 
south  to  Mexico.  They  are  most  numerous  in  the  northern  United 
States,  where  the  Arctic  forms  and  those  inhahitinj^  more  temjjerate 
reyions  overlap,  antl  here  two  of  the  most  mairnificent  represen- 
tatives of  the  family — the  moose  and  the  elk  —  are  found.  The 
value  of  the  deer  to  the  aborij^nnes  of  this  continent  can  scarcely  be 
over-estimated.  In  many  sections  of  country,  the  natives  formerly 
depended  for  animal  food  almost  wholly  upon  the  deer  at  certain 
seasons;  and  at  the  present  day  the  ICsciuimaux  rely,  for  several 
months  of  the  year,  entirely  upon  the  reindeer  for  subsistence.  L'ntil 
some  time  after  the  settlement  of  this  country  by  the  whites,  the 
clothinj;^  of  the  natives  was  manufactured  chiefly  from  deer-skins. 
Shirts,  lei;gings.  and  moccasins  wt;re  and  are  made  from  the  dressed 
skins  of  the  red,  the  mule,  and  the  black-tail  deer ;  while  the  coarser 
antl  heavier  hides  of  the  moose  and  elk  were  used  for  coverinj^  lodj^es, 
for  robes  and  blankets,  and  for  moccasins,  as  well  as  in  the  manufact- 
ure of  ropes  and  lines  and  for  a  variety  of  other  purposes.  At 
present,  blankets  antl  cheap  cotton  cloths  ha^•e,  to  a  considerable 
extent  taken  the  place  of  buckskin  in  the  manufacture  of  Indian 
garments.  But  to-day,  the  clothing  of  the  Innuit  is  made  almost 
entirely  from  the  skins  of  the  reindeer,  dressed  with  the  hair  on,  the 
garments  worn  next  to  the  skin  being  made  from  the  summer  hides, 
on  which  the  hair  is  short  and  fine,  and  the  outer  ones  from  skins 
taken  later  in  the  season,  and  therefore;  coarser. 

9 


I     : 


mm 


130 


T/ie  North  Amcncan  Ccrvidcc. 


Six  unquestioned  species  of  deer  inhabit  North  America.  These 
are  the  moose  (Alec  ^Imcricaiui — Jard.),  the  barren  ground  caribou 
( Rangijcr  Granlandiiiis — liaird),  the  elk  {  Cciviis  CanaUitisis  —  Erx- 
leben),  the  mule  deer  ( Cariactis  macivtis  (Say)  (.jray),  the  black-tail 
dear  ( Curiae  Its  Colitmbianns  (Rich.)  Gray),  and  the  X'ir^nnia  deer 
(Cariaciis  I'irgiiiiauits  (Bodd.)  Ciray).  Heside  these,  thert.'  are 
several  geographical  races  or  varieties,  the  zoological  status  of  some 
of  which  is,  however,  doubtful.  The  woodland  caribou  is  a  distinct 
race  of  the  Arctic  reindeer,  and  the  California  form  of  the  mule  deer 
api)ears  also  to  be  a  good  variety.  In  the  several  supposed  races  of 
Caiiacus  Viri^iuiaiiiis,  such  as  macrnnis,  Iciiciirits,  Mcxiciviiis,  and 
Coucsi,  size  appears  to  be  the  distingJiishing  varietal  characteristic. 
In  the  six  species  already  mentioned,  we  have  every  variety  of  size  and 
form,  from  the  gigantic  moose,  which  is  taller  than  the  largest  horse, 
down  to  the  little  dwarf  deer  of  Arizona,  which  at  the  withers  meas- 
ures scarcely  thirty-two  inches  in  height.  Not  less  is  the  difference  in 
grace  and  beauty  of  form  between  the  various  North  .\merican  mem- 
bers of  this  family.  On  the  one  hand  stands  the  Virginia  deer,  whose 
very  name  is  symbolical  of  elegance  and  beauty  of  motion  ;  on  the 
other,  the  moose,  huge,  ungainly,  and,  in  most  of  its  movements, 
awkward.  With  a  head  more  hideous  than  that  of  a  mule,  a  neck  so 
short  that  it  cannot  reach  the  ground,  legs  of  immense  length,  and 
huge  horns  shaped  like  coal  shovels,  it  is  as  far  as  possible  from  being 
graceful  or  attractive.  But  regard  it  with  the  hunter's  eye,  as,  when 
startled,  it  dashes  along  with  swinging  trot,  crashing  through  the 
forest  and  making  the  dead  sticks  snap  and  fly  in  its  impetuous 
career,  taking  in  its  stride  without  any  apparent  effort  the  great  fallen 
logs  that  lie  in  its  course,  and  in  a  moment  disappearing  shadow-like 
among  the  bare  tree  trunks  in  the  distance,  and  it  will  be  acknowl- 
edged that,  if  not  a  graceful,  it  is  at  least  a  grand  animal.  Most  of 
the  North  .\merican  deer,  however,  are  beautiful  and  graceful. 

Before  speaking  in  detail  of  the  various  species  of  Cctvidtc  found 
in  North  America,  it  is  desirable  to  explain  just  what  a  deer  is. 

Roughly  speaking,  all  hoofed  animals  are  contained  in  the  order 
Ungnlata.  This  division  of  the  Mavnualia  includes,  therefore,  the 
formerlv  accepted  orders  Pachydcrniata,  Rnminaniia,  and  Solidtin- 
gtila,  which  have  been  discarded  by  modern  naturalists.  The  group 
is  a  very  large  one,  its  families  being  the  horses,  tapirs,  rhinoceroses, 


'IKSmUHWWi 


riiv  North  ^tmcrican  Cerviihe. 


»3i 


hippopotami,  hoj^s,  camels,  musk-drcr,  ilcer,  jfiratTc,  ami  tlu-  Jiovid<e, 
ill  whicli  stand  tlu;  cattle,  sheep,  and  antelopes.  Tlie  oixler  is  ilivided 
into  Pcrrissodiiclyhi  and  .1  r/iiu/nciy/a,  or  odil  and  even  toed  ungu- 
lates. Ihe  distinction  between  the  liviniL;  represi-ntatives  of'  these 
two  tfroups  is  well  marked,  and  thi-  tlivision  is  a  convenicMU  one;  hut 
it  is  prohahle  that  the  future  discovery  of'  fossil  forms  of"  unj^iilates 
will  show  that  the  artiodacts  les  and  perrissodactyles  j^rade  into  one 
another,  so  that  it  will  be  impossible  accurate!)  to  di-fine  the  terms. 
Althou^di  these  j^roups  are  loosely  called  odd-toed  antl  even-toed 
ungulates,  tht;  fundanunlal  difference  between  them  does  not  consist 
in  the  number  of  dij^its  on  the  foot,  but  in  the  fact  that  in  the  pe-rris- 
soilactyles  the  di;velopment  of  the  foot  takes  pl.ice  in  the  line  of  the 
middle  toe,  which  is  usually  symmetrical  in  itsi-lf,  whereas  in  the 
artiodactyles  tlu'  third  and  fourth  dibits  share  ecpially  in  this  ilevelop- 
ment,  and  toirether  form  a  symmetrical  pair. 

To  make  this  clear,  it  is  pi!rhaps  necessary  to  \fo  a  little  further, 
and,  by  e.\|)lainin}j  the  manner  of  proijression  of  two  of  the  more 
familiar  forms  of  the  order,  to  j^ive  an  iilea  of  the  construction  of 
these  two  types  of  unsj^ulatc;  foot.  The  horse  is  a  perrissodactyle, 
havinjr  a  single  visible  toe,  which  is  symmetrical  in  itself  He  walks 
upon  tht!  extHMiiity  of  this  toe,  the  hoof  corresponilinj.,^  to  the  nail  of 
the  thiril  or  middle  tintrer  in  man.  Comparinjj^  it  with  the  human 
hand  and  arm,  it  will  be  seen  that  the  fore  leg  of  the  horse,  from  the 
hoof  to  the  fetlock  Joint,  corresponds  to  the  miildle  tlnt^er.  and  the 
portion  between  the  fetlock  and  what  is  isually  termed  the  kni-e,  to 
the  middle  metacarpal  —  the  bone  which  lies  bi'tween  the  knuckle  of 
the  third  finger  and  the  wrist.  bOllowing  tlu;  leg  uj)  toward  the 
body,  it  appears  that  the  "knee"  of  the  horse  is  really  its  wrist;  that 
the  elbow  is  high  up  close  to  the  body,  while  the  humerus  —  the  bone 
between  the  elbow  anti  the  shoulder — lies  within  the  boch',  and  out 
of  sight,  in  the  hind  leg  a  similar  secpience  will  be  found.  The 
animal  walks  on  the  toe  corresponding  to  the  third  digit  in  the  hu- 
man foot,  the  hock  is  tht'  ankle,  whiK;  the  true  knee;  is  dost;  to  the 
body.  The  horse,  therefore,  su|)|)orts  his  weight  on  the  third  digit 
of  each  foot.  His  thumb  and  little  finger,  and  the  first  and  fifth  digits 
of  the  foot,  have  been  wholly  lost ;  but  in  the  fore  and  hind  foot  the 
metacarpals  and  metatarsals  of  the  second  and  fourth  (.ligits  still  per- 
sist in  the  form  of  the  slender,  sharp-pointed  bones,  called  by  horse- 


15     ! 


I  *i 


I! 


II 


!  i 

1  1 

i   ii'!' 


U 


132 


YVif  North  Amerkan  Ccyvidcc. 


men  side-bones  or  splints,  whicii  lie  hidden  beneath  the  skin,  close  to 
the  larj^fe  third  di^it,  metacarpal  or  metatarsal. 

Now  the  ox  is  an  artiodactyle.  His  \v(ijL,du  is  supported  on  the 
tips  of  two  toes,  which  represent  the  third  ami  fourth  ilij^ils  of  the 
human  hand,  or  foot,  as  the  case  may  be.  The  first  has  been  wholly 
lost,  but  tin;  second  and  fifth  are  represented  by  the  two  little  supple- 
mentary hoollets  behind  anil  above  the  main  hoofs.  The  functional 
hoofs  are  synmietrical  in  pairs,  the  third  and  fourth  dij^dts  bein)^^ 
eijually  developed,  and  takinj,^  an  t^cpial  part  in  the  constituti<jn  of 
tlu!  foot  ami  in  performinj^r  its  work,  Ihe  metacarpals  ami  metatar 
sals  of  the  third  and  fourth  dij^its  are  e(|ually  develo|)ed,  but  are 
anchylosed  to^aither,  so  that  they  appear  like  a  sini^li;  bone,  with,  how- 
ever, two  distinct  articular  surfaces  at  their  lower  ends  to  support  the 
phalanjfes  of  the  tli^its.  The  Ccrvidce  belons^  to  the  Artiodactyla, 
and  their  feet  are  constructed  upon  the  same  plan  as  those  of  the  ox. 
They  are  also  ruminants,  and  belonjf  in  a  subdivision  of  the  Artio- 
dactyla  st)Ied  Pccora,  to  which  biilonij  the  Camiiopardidcc  (jj^iraftes) 
and  Boz'idte  (cattle,  sheep,  and  antelopes). 

All  the  Ccrvidce  have  horns,  and  these  alone  are  enough  to  distin- 
guish this  family  from  any  other.  The  horns  of  the  Jiovidcc  are  per- 
manent osseous  outgrowths  from  the  frontal  bone  (jf  the  skull,  and  are 
enclosed  in  a  horny  epidermic  sheath,  which  is  usually  persistent,  a 
single  species — our  prong-horn  antelope  —  being  the  only  exception 
to  the  rule.  These  bony  outgrowths,  which  form  the  core  of  the  horn, 
are  usually  permeated  ])y  large  air  sinuses,  and  from  this  fact  the 
group  have  been  called  Caviioniia  (hollow-horned).  In  the  deer 
family,  however,  the  horns  are  constructed  on  quite  a  different  plan. 
They  are  still  outgrowths  of  bone  from  the  frontals,  but  the  outer 
epidermic  sheath  encloses  them  for  a  short  time  only,  and,  as  soon  as 
their  growth  is  completed,  is  shed.  The  perfect  horn  is  now  mere 
dead  bone.  It  remains  firmly  attached  to  the  skull  for  a  few  months, 
and  then  drops  off  to  be  renewed  agiin  the  following  year.  These 
horns  are,  in  fact,  true  bones,  and  in  their  constitution  do  not  differ 
materially  from  the  other  bones  of  the  body. 

Their  method  of  growth  is  as  follows :  From  each  of  the  frontal 
bones  there  arises  a  short,  stout  process,  growing  outward  and  up- 
ward, forming  what  is  called  the  pedicel.     This  pedicel  is  covered 


The  North  American  Ccrvidce. 


•33 


with  ordinary  hairy  skin,  exct.-pt  upon  tht?  upper  flat  circular  surface 
of  its  extremity,  on  which  the  liorn  of  the  preceding  year  was  sup- 
ported. Here  the  skin  is  naked  and  l)hick.  In  the  spring,  usually 
about  May  i.  the  time  varying  som<-what  in  the  different  species, 
and  even  in  different  individuals  of  the  same  species,  this  flat  surface 
becomes  convex,  gni'lualiy  swells  outwanl,  becomes  longer,  and  soon 
takes  the  shape  of  a  ■  liort  spike.  At  first,  it  is  straight  and  swolKin 
anil  is  shaped  somewhat  like  a  cucumber.  It  is  now  little  more  than 
a  mass  of  coagulated  blood  inclosed  in  a  sack  of  thin  skin,  which  is 
covered  by  a  coal  of  fine  brown  hair  called  "  velvet,"  and  during  the 
first  part  of  its  growth  there  is  but  little  trace  of  bony  structure 
apparent  in  it.  The  horn  is  soft  to  the  touch,  and  may  be  somewhat 
compressed  in  the  hand  or  bent  a  little  in  any  direction.  It  is  hot 
and  feverish,  too,  and  the  pulsation  of  the  arteries  which  supply  it 
with  blood  may  be  felt.  It  is  also  extremely  sensitive  and  tender, 
and  the  deer  is  extremely  careful  to  avoid  striking  it  against  the 
trees  or  undergrowth  near  which  he  may  pass. 

When  the  point  is  reached  at  which  the  first  tine  is  to  be  put  off, 
the  extremity  of  the  growing  horn  becomes  somewhat  flattened 
from  side  to  side  and  then  divides,  the  tine  at  first  being  quite  small, 
and  increasing  in  length  much  more  gradually  than  the  beam.  The 
same  thing  takes  place  with  each  of  the  succeeding  branches,  so  that 
the  beam  and  all  the  tines  attain  their  full  length  at  the  same  time. 
During  the  whole  period  of  their  growth,  the  horns  are  abundantly 
supplied  with  blood-vessels,  three  distinct  sets  of  arteries,  accoriling 
to  Caton,  passing  up  through  and  without  tlie  pedicel.  The  horns 
grow  with  very  great  rapidity,  usually  attaining  their  full  size  in 
about  three  months.  Huxley,  in  speaking  of  this  marvelously  rapid 
growth,  refers  to  a  pair  of  antlers,  weighing  seventy-two  pounds, 
which  were  produced  in  ten  weeks.  As  might  be  imagined,  the  pro- 
duct! in  of  such  a  mass  of  osseous  tissue  in  so  short  a  time  is  a  severe 
drain  upon  the  animal's  system,  and  in  most  species  the  males  at  this 
time  become  very  thin  and  weak.  During  the  growth  of  the  horn 
a  circular  notched  and  jagged  ridge  makes  its  appearance  at  the 
base  of  the  horn  just  above  the  pedicel.  This  "burr"  serves  in  a 
measure  to  protect  the  blood-vessels  which  pass  along  beneath  the 
skin  of  the  pedicel,  and  these  take  their  way  through  it  and  between 
its  projections,  and  thence  along  the  channels  in  the  surface  of  the 
9A 


u 


134 


7/i('  North  Anicrican  Ccrvidcc. 


horn    Ix-iK-atli    the   ijeriosteuni  —  ihc    membrane  which    incases  the 
Hving  hone. 

liie  horns  reach  their  full  size  in  August,  and,  from  l)eini;  at  first 
\ery  soft  and  afterward  spongy,  have  at  length  become  (juite  hard. 
They  are,  however,  still  covered  with  the  "velvet,"  and  lieneath  this 
the  blood  continues  to  circulate,  but  now  more  slowly  than  at  any 
time  since  the  horn  began  to  grow.  The  time  at  which  the  horn 
becomes  fit  for  use  as  a  weapon  of  offense  or  defi-nse  varies  slightly 
in  the  different  species  of  our  ileer,  but  is  usually  about  Septem- 
ber I.  The  animal's  head  now  appears  to  trouble  him,  and  to  be  irri- 
tateil  like  a  healing  wound,  and  he  rubs  his  horns  violently  in  the 
bushes  or  against  the  branches  and  trunks  of  trees.  The  tender 
"velvet"  is  thus  torn  off  ami  hangs  in  bleeiling  strips  about  his  horns 
and  head,  but  he  continues  to  rub  for  several  days,  until  at  length  the 
antlers  are  cpiitt.;  free  from  skin,  their  tips  white  and  polisheil,  and 
the  ine(|ualities  about  the  burr  filletl  with  finely  crushed  fragments  of 
bark.  He  is  then  ready  for  the  rutting  season,  which  inunediately 
ensues. 

The  horn  is  now  dead,  and  at  its  connection  with  the  skull  —  the 
e.vtremity  ot  the  pedicel  —  absorption  begins  to  take  place,  ami  in 
the  course  of  four  or  five  months  the  attachment  to  the  frontal  is  so 
weakened  that  thtr  horn  drops  off  of  its  own  weight.  The  end  of  the 
pedicel  bleeds  a  little  at  first,  but  aim  ■  •  at  once  heal-,  over,  antl  until 
the  following  spring  is  covt-red  with  the    !  .ck  skin  already-  mentioned. 

.\s  a  rule,  these  weapons  are  borne  onl\'  1)\'  the  male  deer;  but 
the  female  caribou  always  has  small  horns,  and  in  ver\-  rare  instances 
the  female  X'irginia  tleer  has  In-en  killed  witii  a  single  spike,  or  a 
pair  of  straight,  short,  and  scarcely  brancheil  horns.  The  horns  of 
all  our  North  .Xuu'rican  deer  becomi'  fit  fiir  service  in  Se])tember, 
and  they  are  shetl  at  various  times  from  December  to  March. 

From  what  has  alread\  bien  saitl,  it  wil'  be  seen  that  a  ileer  is  an 
artiodact\le  ruminating  ungulate,  with  solitl,  tleciiluous  horns. 

The  arrangement  of  the  teeth  in  this  family  is  as  follows:  In- 
cisors, s  ;  canines,  ,',",',,  or  wanting:  molars,  |;:,^.  Canines  are  said  to 
be  always  wanting  in  thi'  femali-,  but  this  is  by  no  means  true  of  all 
species,  for  thev  are  usually  present  in  the  female  of  Ccnuts  Cana- 
densis, ami  1  have  also  detected  small  ones  occasionally  in  Can'acus 
Colunibianiis. 


,1,;,,  ..»■-■  ^»-^<ffi>«t-*i*t<««*^**«*»*«"*"''*""""* 


The  North  .-hno'iiiiit  (  cyviiicc. 


'35 


Tlu'  kct-nncss  of  the  tk;t;r's  olfactories  has  Ijfcomi'  provt-rhial,  and 
tluj  cxpcritrna'd  hunter,  when  starlini^'  out,  alua\s  tlrst  salistu's  hiiii- 
sflf  as  to  the  direction  of  the  wiml ;  fiir  a  deer,  when  its  nose  has 
told  it  that  a  man  is  in  the  neii,dil)oriiood,  waits  for  no  more  definite 
information  on  the  subject,  does  not  seek  to  learn  just  where  he  is, 
nor  how  far  off,  hut  makes  the  best  of  its  way  trom  the  s|)ot.  All 
iletT  are  alike  in  possessins^^  this  keen  iK)wer  of  scent  and  in  the 
readiness  with  which  the\-  take  to  tlight  wlun  warned  by  this 
sense. 

I'Voni  the  very  nature  of  the  ca.s(!,  the  eyes  are  less  to  be  relit-d  on 
to  warn  the  animal  of  dan;;er.  We  are  accustomed  to  hear  men  say 
that  the  (.leer's  vision  is  defective,  anil  even  so  L((>od  an  authority  as 
ludi^e  Caton  makes  this  statement  in  his  excellent  work  on  this 
t,n-oui).  'i'here  seems  to  be  no  suftlcii-nt  reason  for  supposing'  this  to 
be  the  case.  It  is  true  that  deer  will  pass  close  by  a  man  sitting  in 
the  woods  without  seeinif  him,  provitled  only  he  remains  perfectK- 
motionless:  but  this  does  not  necessaril\-  imply  any  imperfection  of 
vision.  Other  mammals  and  birds  will  ilo  precisely  the  same  thint,^. 
The  tle(;r  wouKl  not  walk  up  to  a  man  standin<^  (>r  sitting'  in  the  niid- 


ol  a  meadow,  and  when: 


th 


ert-  were  no  surroum 


linij"  object- 


man,  if  motionless,  in  the  woods,  when  clothed  in  hunter's  i/iirb,  verv 


liosels   resem 


bli 


a  stump  or  a  slick.  The  deer  is  not  especialK- 
familiar  with  the  Inunan  form  and  does  not  recoj^mize  in  it  anvthinLj 
alarmin<4,  nor,  since  it  is  without  motion,  does  it  ilistini;uish  it  trom 
an\    ot   tlu:   many  other   (|uiescent  ol)jects  o\tT  which  its  e\e  jnisses, 


ana  whic 


h  it 


lias  no  especial  reasiui  for  c 


losel 


\'  examminL:. 


ts  expe- 


rience has  taui^ht  it  that  these  (juiescent  objects  are  not  dariL^erous, 
and  it  therefore  pays  no  attention  to  them  unless  ihev  are  marki-dlv 
difterent  in  appear.uice  trom  those  to  which  its  e\e  is  accustominl.  .\ 
white  tent  or  a   red   shirt  will.  howe\er.  at   oiue   c.itch  a  deer's  e\c. 


because  these  are  unusual  objects.      .\n\  tiling;  that  nio\i 
at  once,  ami.  unless   it   is   recoL-ni/ed   as   some'hiiv. 


e-.  IS  obsi'r\  ed 


.MKl     IK 


.t   d, 


in''"erous,  IS  avoul 


commonh'  seen 
d.       The  deer  h,i->  no  friends;   the  hand 
and  the  f.Kt  ih.it  an 


of  man  and  of  the  lari.rer  animals  is  ai^.un^t  him 
objt'ct  moves,  anil  hence  has  life,  is  to  him  piitiui  facie  e\iii  'iice  that 
it  is  an  enemy,  and  so.  on  the  slitjhtest  hint  of  daiiL^er.  he  t.ik<s  to  his 
heels  Like  other  wild  creatures,  the  deer  si'ems  to  recoi^ni/t  d.inj.jer 
onlv  in  life,  ami  lite  onlv  in  motion. 


w.\s 


Ml 


w^ 


I  ' 


I   1 


136 


l^ 


The  Noytli  A)iicncan  Ccrvidcc. 


TiiK  Moose  (Alec  Avicricaita,  Jard.). 


The  moose  is  by  far  the  largest  of  the  Ccfvidic,  and  considerably 
exceeds  a  horse  in  height,  often  measuring  six  feet  or  more  at  the 
withers.  This  great  height  is,  in  a  measure,  due  to  tlie  extreme 
length  of  the  leg,-, ;  but  the  long  mane-like  hairs  of  the  neck,  which 
are  naturally  slightly  raised,  also  tend  to  make  the  ai.imal  appear 
taller  than  it  really  is.  When  the  moose  is  at  his  best, — that  is,  in 
the  autumn, — he  is  black,  with  tan  legs  and  muzzle,  and  grayish  belly 
and  flanks,  but  later  in  the  season  the  coat  fades  to  a  dark  grizzled 
gra\ .  The  tips  of  the  hairs  are  black,  becoming  pale  gray  ai)Out 
half-way  toward  the  roots,  and  then  changing  to  dull  white.  The 
young,  when  first  born,  are  bright  bay,  sometimes  with  faint  indica- 
tions of  spots  on  the  sides.  These  markings  are  soon  lost,  however, 
and  by  September  the  color  of  the  body  is  brownish  gray,  the  head 
and  legs  being  reddish. 

The  horns  of  the  moose  are  broadly  palmate,  being  sometimes 
sixteen  inches  across  their  widest  part,  and  their  spread  is  often  five 
feet  or  more.  The  yearling  bull  has  only  a  short  spike ;  the  horns 
of  a  two-vear-old,  now  before  me,  are  ten  inches  long,  and  a  brow 
antler  four  inches  in  length  springs  from  the  beam  six  inches  above 
the  burr.  The  third  year  a  small  palm  is  developed,  and  for  several 
seasons  thereafter  the  horns  increase  in  size.  The  head  of  this 
species  is  a  marvel  of  ugliness,  the  great  roimded  nose,  or  iiioiijffc, 
and  the  overhanging  square-cut  upper  lip  making  it  appear  inde- 
scribably heavy  and  coarse.  The  neck  is  \er)  short,  and  this  fact, 
in  connection  with  the  very  long  legs,  renders  it  difiicult,  if  not 
impossible,  for  the  moose  to  graze  on  level  ground.  The  young  are 
brought  forth  in  May,  and  are  usually  two  in  number.  A  calf  moose 
is  a  most  grotesque  and,  at  the  same;  time,  a  most  interesting  little 
animal.  Years  ago,  in  the  valley  of  the  I'pjier  Yellowstone,  a  tame 
one.  which  had  been  captured  by  the  sons  of  a  settler  there,  came 
under  my  notice.  Late  in  the  month  of  .\ugust  it  was  as  large  as  a 
good- sized  calf  and  was  strong  and  fat.  It  was  (|uite  as  much  at 
home  about  the  ranche  as  one  of  the  dogs,  antl  manifestitl  not  the 
slightest  fear.  The  greater  part  of  its  time  was  spent  among  the 
willow  brush  down  by  the  river-i)ank  ;    l)ut  at  tlie  whistle,  if  it  hap- 


A    MOdSr.    FIC.llT. 


DliWVN    IIV     III.NKV     ^WnllAM. 


I'i'Vt  'AH 


•^ 


T  ' 

;          i 

' 

i          1 
f      1 

k    i 

1      ^' 

'     i 

1 
i 

i      '^ 

m 


II I 


.uiiMSti 


The  North  American  Ccrvidcc. 


139 


pencd  to  be  hiiny;ry,  it  would  come  trottinsj^  swiftly  up  to  the  house. 
Fhc  boys  who  owned  it  rather  complained  because  it  would  only 
obey  the  summons  when  it  wanted  a  drink  of  milk,  and  said  that  at 
other  times  they  were  obliged  to  go  down  to  the  willows,  and  drive  it 
up  before  them.  It  had  been  caught  only  two  months  before,  and  so, 
although  it  browsed  to  some  extent  on  the  undergrowth  near  the 
water,  it  still  depended  for  subsistence  mainly  on  cow's  milk.  When 
the  pail  containing  this  was  |)laced  on  the  ground,  the  moose  had  a 
hard  struggle  to  reach  it.  He  would  straddle  the  pail  with  his  fore 
legs,  and  thus  bring  his  mouth  to  the  level  of  the  liquid.  As  this 
sunk  lower,  his  feet  would  gradually  spread  farther  and  farther 
apart,  until  sometimes  I  would  feel  anxious  lest  he  should  split  in 
two,  and  it  was  always  a  (juestion  whether  he  would  be  able  to 
recover  his  upright  position  without  accident,  but  he  never  seemed  to 
tind  the  slightest  difficulty  in  doing  this  by  means  of  an  awkward 
bound,  which  brought  his  feet  close  together  again. 

In  the  United  States,  moose  are  still  found  in  small  numbers  in 
northern  Maine,  but  are  apparently  extinct  in  the  Adirondack  region 
of  New  York,  where  they  were  once  of  frequent  occurrence.  In 
Michigan  and  Wisconsin,  a  few  probably  still  exist ;  and  they  are 
more  numerous  in  the  tamarack  swamps  of  Minnesota.  Proceeding 
westward,  no  country  adapteil  to  this  species  is  found  until  the  main 
range  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  is  reached.  In  western  Montana, 
northern  Wyoming  and  Idaho,  Washington,  and  portions  of  Oregon 
they  are  modi!ratel\-  abundant,  though  less  so  than  the  other  species 
of  Ccrvidtc  found  in  this  region.  They  are  often  killed,  however  ;  but 
the  character  of  the  country  which  they  most  affect  is  so  difficult  that 
the  hunter  is  likely  to  neglect  the  moose,  jjreferring  the  less  labor- 
ious task  of  stalking  the  elk  or  the  mule-deiT,  or  even  the  leg-tiring 
climb  after  mountain  sheep.  Rut,  as  the  Western  country  settles  up, 
the  fate  of  the  moose  there  will  be  what  it  has  been  in  New  York 
and  other  Kastern  States,  and  this  superb  creature  will  be  known 
only  in  history.  Its  one  hojie  of  preservation  from  extinction  lies  in 
the  proper  policing  of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park  and  the  pro- 
tection of  its  game,  and  here,  if  proper  steps  are  taken,  it  may  be 
preserved  for  all  time. 

Since  it  is  difficult  or  impossible  for  the  moose  to  crop  the  grass 
on  level  ground,  a  large   |iortion   of  its  food   is  arboreous.     In  the 


t 


11  i 


140 


Tke  North  American  Cervidcc. 


spring,  it  feeds  on  the  young  and  tender  shoots  of  the  birch,  the 
maples,  poplar,  and  mountain  ash,  as  well  as  those  of  some  conifer- 
ous trees ;  during  the  summer,  the  willows  and  the  water-lilies  and 
other  aquatic  plants  form  a  considerable  portion  of  its  food ;  and  in 
winter,  with  its  sharp  incisors  it  nips  the  twigs  and  strips  off  the  bark 
from  different  shrubs  and  trees. 

The  horns  of  the  moose  start  in  April  and  become  hard  early  in 
September.  The  rutting  season  at  once  follows,  lasting  until  No- 
vember. At  the  beginning  of  this  season  the  bulls  are  at  their  best, 
and  then  is  the  time  to  hunt  them.  Later,  the  flesh  becomes  some- 
what strong,  and,  before  the  rut  is  over,  the  animals  have  become 
thin,  and  are  scarcely  fit  for  food. 

It  seems  \  pity  that  the  moose  cannot  be  domesticated.  Experi- 
ence '^is  ••  that  they  are  readily  tamed,  and  that  they  can  be 
broken  to  :  nt  without  much  difificulty.  The  elk  of  Europe  was 
formerly  used  16  draw  sledges  in  Sweden,  and  in  America  the  moose 
has  occn  'onally  been  used  as  a  draught  animal,  and  has  shown  itself 
strong  and  tii , '  'ss.  \  has  not  been  practicable,  however,  to  use  it 
during  the  rutting  sc'v.  m. 

In  winter,  when  the  snows  lie  deep,  and  traveling  becomes  dif- 
ficult, the  moose  "  yard  up,"  as  it  is  called ;  that  is,  they  collect  in 
localities  where  food  is  abundant,  and  remain  there  until  spring,  or 
until  they  are  driven  off  by  hunters.  This  species  is  less  gregarious 
than  most  deer,  and  it  is  somewhat  unusual  to  see  more  than  four  or 
five  together,  and  these  are  usually  a  single  family  of  old  and  young. 


The  Caribou  ( Rangifer  iTrasnlandicus,  Baird). 

The  older  naturalists  described  the  two  forms  of  American  caribou 
under  different  specific  names,  and  regarded  both  as  different  from 
the  reindeer  of  the  Old  World.  At  present,  however,  the  best  author- 
ities consider  the  woodland  caribou  ( R.  Grivnlandictis  tarandtis), 
which  is  the  common  Southern  form,  as  a  fairly  good  geographical 
race  of  the  barren  ground  species,  and  look  upon  the  circumpolar 
forms  as  identical. 

The  head  of  the  caribou,  while  less  coarse  than  that  of  the  moose, 
is  far  from  presenting  the  delicate  and  graceful  outlines  seen  in  the 


wemmmmmm 


IBBjBnriwuP'tfww 


riie  North  American  Cervidcv. 


141 


genera  Ccrvtis  and  Cariacus.  It  is  blunt  and  rather  heavy,  shaped,  in 
fact,  somewhat  like  tliat  of  a  cow,  though  less  wide  across  the  fore- 
head. The  form  is  much  heavier  and  stouter  than  that  of  most  deer. 
During  the  summer,  this  species  is  dark  brown  on  the  body  and  legs, 
becoming  paler,  and  almost  white  on  the  belly  and  rump.  Th(;  head 
and  neck  are  white  at  all  seasons,  and  in  winter  a  long  beard  or 
mane  depends  from  the  latter.  Late  in  the  autumn,  the  hair  through- 
out becomes  longer,  and  the  color  of  the  animal  changes  to  a  paler 
cast,  so  that  it  is  a  f;idetl  gray  or  soiled  white,  somewhat  shaded  with 
brownish  on  the  legs  and  flanks.  The  young  are  at  first  spotted, 
but  less  pronouncedly  so  than  is  the  case  with  most  of  our  deer. 
The  arctic  form  is  much  the  smaller  of  the  two,  an  adult  male 
weighing,  after  having  been  eviscerated,  only  from  ninety  to  one 
hundred  and  thirty  pounds.  This  would  give  a  live  weight  of 
from  one  hundretl  and  forty  to  two  hundred  pounds.  The  wood- 
land form,  on  the  other  hand,  is,  with  the  exception  of  the  moose 
and  elk,  the  largest  of  the  North  American  deer.  A  good-sized 
male  will  stand  four  feet  high  at  the  withers,  and  may  weigh 
from  four  hundred  to  five  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

The  horns  of  the  caribou  are  remarkably  large  and  heavy  for  the 
size  of  the  animal,  and  this  genus  is  the  only  one  in  which  both  sexes 
commonly  produce  these  outgrowths.  Those  of  the  female  are 
usually  small,  slender,  and  but  slightly  palmate,  and  bear  two  or 
three  small  tines.  In  the  male,  however,  they  are  long,  branching 
and  irregular,  most  of  the  tines  being  widely  expanded  from  above 
downward  toward  their  extremities,  and  the  palmate  portion  termi- 
nating at  its  margin  in  half  a  dozen  short  points.  The  antlers  vary 
widely  in  the  size  and  shape  of  their  branchings,  and  do  not  seem  to 
have  any  common  form.  Those  of  the  arctic  reindeer  are  nearly 
twice  the  actual  size  of  the  woodland  race,  while  the  animal  which 
carries  them  is  only  about  half  as  large. 

The  caribou's  foot  is  broad  and  spreading,  and  the  supplementary 
hooflets,  or  dew-claws,  are  large,  the  whole  being  admirably  adapted 
for  supporting  the  animal  in  its  passage  through  marshes  or  over  the 
snow.  The  thin,  horny  shell  which  forms  the  border  of  the  hoof 
also  serves  it  well  when  traveling  on  the  ice.  The  representatives 
of  the  second  and  fourth  digits  contribute  something  to  the  support 
of  the  animal's  weight,  and  are  always  more  or  less  worn  and  abraded 


! 


142 


The  Noyth  .Imo'ican  C  ct'vidcc. 


barki:n-(;koini)   cAKiHor. 


on  their  inferior  surfaces.  W'lu-n  the  animal  trots  swiftly,  these  dew- 
chiws  strike  aijainst  one  another  with  a  loiiil,  datterins;-  noise. 

The  fooil  of  this  species  consists  principally  of  the  so-called  rein- 
deer nn)ss  ( Claiioiiia  nritjrifcriiia ),  which,  in  winter,  they  reach 
by  scraping  away  the  snow  with  their  hoofs  ;  but  they  also  eat 
other  mosses  anil  lichens  which  y;row  upon  the  trees  or  on  the 
barrens  which  the\  frc(iuent.  Hurini;^  the  summer  they  feetl  on 
jj^rasses  and  the  tender  shoots  of  shrubs,  but  do  not  appear  at 
any  season  to  strip  the  saplinj^s  of  their  bark  as  do  the  moose. 
The  yount;  are  brouj^ht  tbrth   in   May. 

As  to  the  habits  of  the  barren-yfround  caribou  we  are  not 
well  informed,  for  the  species  is  known  only  to  arctic  explorers 
and  to  the  servants  of  the  lludson  Hay  Company,  in  British 
America.  Richardson's  accounts  of  it  are,  however,  (juite  full,  and 
from  these  it  appears  that  this  form  does  not  iliffer  materially 
from  its  woodland  relative,  except  in  the  ran^^e  of  country  which  it 
inhabits,  and  in  the  oreater  extent  ami  ri'oularitv  of  its  mis^rations. 
The  woodland  caril)ou  is  nuich  more  southern  in  habitat,  and  fre- 
quents especially  the  forests  of  British  America,  occurrinij  regularly 
in  Maine  and  perlia])s  in  tht;  Rocky  Mountain  region  of  the  Ignited 
States  along  the  border.  The  barren -ground  deer,  t>n  the  other 
hand,  occupies  the  wide  treeless  plains  about  the  Arctic  Sea.  where 


HVj-  .\  r»f -J|gpi»«|-5;-|V»i.-.^, 


T 


The  North  .Jnicn'ai/i  (  cfvuUc. 


•43 


the  only  otluT  lar^rt-  ruininant  is  tlic  imisk-slK.-c|),  only  rctiriiij^ 
soutlnvaril  to  the  forest  l)eh  in  winter. 

The  iniij^ration  of  tlie  caril)ou  is  a  notable  feature  in  its  luihits, 
.iiul  the  journeys  whicli  it  performs  are  li)njrer  and  more  rej^ular  than 
those  of  any  other  species  of  Nortli  American  Ccrvidic.  Others,  as 
the  elk  (Ccrvns  Caiunicusis )  and  the  muK^-dei-r  (Cariacits  niiuiv/is), 
chanj^^e  from  one  feedinjf  jj^rouml  to  another  at  the  approach  of 
winter  and  again  in  spriny;;  l)ut  such  chanijes  ilo  not  usually  involve 
journeys  of  much  more  than  seventy -five  or  a  hundred  miles,  while 
those  of  the  caribou  are  far  more  extended.  In  the  woodland  caribou, 
the  miijration  seems  to  be  little  more  than  a  mere  restlessness,  a  de- 
sire to  keep  movinjf.  or  a  natural  change  from  a  winter  feeding  grouml 
to  a  summer  one  and  back  again;  but.  in  the  barren-ground  form,  the 
journeys  take  place  with  so  much  regularity  and  are  on  such  a  large 
scale  that  they  have  attracted  the  attention  of  all  travelers  wht)  have 
had  opportunities  of  observing  them.  The  last-named  deer  spend  the 
winter  along  the  borilers  of  the  low  forests  near  the  arctic  circle,  ami 
at  the  apprt)ach  of  spring  begin  to  travel  northward  toward  the 
shores  of  the  .Arctic  sea,  which  they  reach  early  in  May.  the  females 
preceding  the  males.  Here  the  young  are  born,  and  the  summer  is 
spent.  The  rutting  season  is  in  September,  and  soon  afterward  the 
herds  retrace  their  steps  southward.  In  the  island  of  Newfoundland, 
however,  where  the  woodland  form  is  the  only  um\  found,  a  general 
movement  of  these  deer  takes  place  in  April,  at  which  time  they 
leave  the  lowlands  on  which  they  have  passed  the  winter,  and  where 
food  is  at  that  season  more  easily  obtained,  and  travel  in  a  north- 
westerly direction  toward  the  higher  mountainous  country.  Here 
they  remain  during  the  summer,  and  at  the  approach  of  cold  weather 
a  retrcgraile  movement  ensues. 

Caribou  are  notorious  for  being  great  travelers  and  almost  con- 
stantly on  the  move.  Their  powers  of  scent  are  very  keen,  anil  when 
much  hunted  they  are  extremely  wary  and  difficult  of  approach,  and 
if  once  started  it  is  impossible  to  come  u|)  with  them,  for  thev  do  not 
cease  their  flight  until  they  have  put  a  long  distance  between  them- 
selves and  the  danger  which  threatened.  Thi'  gait  t)f  the  caribou  is 
a  long,  swift  trot.  It  never  gallops,  though  when  first  frightened,  it 
may  make  a  few  startled  bounds.  This  tireless  trot,  it  is  said,  can  be 
kept  up  for  many  hours.   ' 


'  1 


i 


u| 


lin 

■ 

144 


The  North  American  Cervidcc. 


^ 


'   I 


TiiK  Ei.K  ( Cerviis  Canadensis,  Erxleben). 

The  elk.  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  the  wapiti,  is  a  near  rela- 
tive of  the  red  deer  of  Europe,  but  is  a  much  larger  animal.  At 
the  withers  it  measures  about  five  feet  in  height,  being  thus  about 
as  tall  as  a  horse.  The  females  are  somewhat  smaller.  The  shape 
of  the  elk  is  much  like  that  of  the  common  deer,  being  graceful, 
and  having  none  of  the  coarseness  and  awkwardness  of  the  moose 
and  caribou.  The  head  is  small  and  finely  formed,  the  legs 
slender  and  delicate,  and  the  whole  shape  strong,  yet  elegant. 
During  the  greater  portion  of  the  year  the  color  of  the  elk  is  a 
yellowish  brown,  of  a  somewhat  varying  shade,  the  head,  neck, 
legs,  and  belly  being  a  dark  wood  brown.  I  have  sometimes  killed 
specimens  in  autumn  so  pale  that  they  might  fairly  be  called  yellow, 
and  have  seen  others  in  the  same  band  which  were  almost  brown. 
At  the  approach  of  winter,  the  coat  becomes  darker  throughout. 
On  the  rump,  extending  up  on  the  ])ack  above  the  tail,  and  also 
down  on  the  inner  side  of  the  legs,  is  a  patch  of  yellowish  white, 
bordered  by  a  stripe  of  dark  brown  or  black.  The  tail  is 
extremely  short,  and  is  clothed  with  hair  only  upon  the  upper 
surface  and  sides.  The  hair  upon  the  neck  is  always  much  longer 
and  coarser  than  that  on  the  body,  and  in  winter  increases  in 
length  so  as  to  become  really  a  mane.  The  elk  is  provided  with 
quite  a  heavy  coat  of  short,  close  wool,  which  is,  however,  con- 
cealed by  the  hair,  and  is  only  to  be  observed  in  spring,  when  the 
pelage  is  shed.  The  horns  of  this  specie.s,  which  are  only 
borne  by  the  males,  are  long,  cylindrical,  and  branching,  and  are 
much  more  nearly  straight  in  the  beam  than  those  of  any  other 
North  American  deer.  They  are  usually  very  symmetrical  —  though 
abnormal  forms  are  sometimes  seen  —  and  bear  on  each  beam 
five  or  more  tines,  directed  forward,  inward,  and  upward.  The  antler 
of  the  bull  elk  in  his  second  year  is  a  straight  spike  from  ten  to 
eighteen  inches  long,  which  is  usually  bifurcated. 

The  elk  was  formerly  distributed  over  the  whole  of  temperate 
North  America,  its  range  having  been  even  more  extended  than  that 
of  the  buffalo,  and  almost  as  wide  as  the  Virginia  deer's.  The  ad- 
vance of  the  settlements  has,  however,  caused  its  extinction  throughout 


^  ^1 


The  North  ^lincritan  Ccfvidce. 


145 


iii;ai>  oi'   amkuican    ki.k. 


the  greater  portion  of  its  former  habitat,  and  to-day  there  is  prob- 
ably only  one  very  circuniscril)ed  locality  east  of  the  Mississippi  River 
where  it  is  to  be  found  in  the  feral  state.  In  the  dense  forests  of  the 
lower  peninsula  of  Michigan  it  is  said  that  a  few  still  exist,  but  their 
numbers  are  becoming  less  each  year,  and  before  long  they  will  all 
have  disappeared.  West  of  the  Missouri  River,  ami  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  there  are  regions  in  which  this  species  is  even  yet  mod- 
erately abundant ;  but  it  is  now  impossible  to  find  them  anywhere  in 
such  numbers  as  formerly.  Less  than  ten  years  ago,  there  were 
many  secluded  localities  in  Colorado,  Wyoming,  and  Montana,  where, 
in  the  late  autumn  and  winter,  these  animals  would  collect  in  bands 
numbering  thousands  of  individuals ;  but  at  the  present  day  it  is 
unusual  to  see  one  hundred  together.  The  hide  of  th(i  elk  has  a 
10 


m^' 


'!'  II 


146 


The  A'orf/i  .hncncnu  Cirvic/cc. 


H 


I      M2; 


1      I 


coiiinuM'cial  value,  which  makes  it  soiiljIu  after  l)\  tiiose  hiitciicrs 
of  thi:  phiins  called  "skin  luintcrs";  ami  the  si/c  ami  beauty  of  iht; 
animal  causes  it  to  he  ruthU-'ssly  piirsiieil  1)\  so-called  sportsmen,  who 
an-  cMjLjer  to  kill,  so  that,  on  their  return  to  civilization,  they  niay 
boast  of  the  slauj^hter  they  havt;  mach'  amonj^r  these  j^raceful  ileni- 
zens  of  plain  and  mouritain.  Ihi;  same  wanton  butcherv,  which 
has  over  the  j^^reater  portion  of  our  countrv  exterminateil  tlv 
buffalo  and  the  moose,  is  causinj^  the  elk  in  like  manner  t 
disappear. 

The  N'ounfj  arc;  born  in  May  and  June,  and  are  at  first  brij^ht  bay 
in  color,  profusel)  spotleil  with  white,  after  the  manner  of  the  com- 
mon red  deer.  At  the  time  of  the  birth  of  the  calves,  the  females  are 
scattered  ami  the  bulls  keep  by  themselves  in  small  companies  of 
twt),  three,  or  half  a  dozen.  If  in  a  mountain  country,  they  frequent 
the  hiijhest  hills,  usually  close  to  the  snow  line,  and  do  not  move  about 
much  ;  while,  if  on  the  plains,  they  sjjend  their  time  amonjf  the  thick 
willow  brush  along'  streams.  About  the  first  of  /\uL;ust,  the  elk 
bejifin  to  "band  up,"  as  the  hunters  phrase  it,  and  at  this  time  they 
are  to  be  found  in  scatterinjr  companies,  which  remain  toj^ether  until 
the  ruttinsj;^  season  bej^ins  in  .September.  Each  male  now  collects 
as  many  cows  as  possible,  and  keeps  them  together,  jealousi)-  guard 
ing  them  and  driving  away  any  other  bulls  which  may  approac 
This  lasts  for  a  month  or  more,  and  during  this  time  the  bulls  are 
constantly  moving  about,  looking  after  the  cows  that  are  under  their 
charge,  and  fighting.  Many  little  groups  of  bulls,  however,  will  be 
found  without  any  cows. 

.After  the  rut  is  over,  the  elk  collect  in  large  bands,  and  at  the 
approach  of  winter  shift  from  place  to  place,  gradually  working 
toward  their  winter  feeding  grounds.  These  are  usually  balu  hills, 
which  the  winds  keep  swept  clear  of  snow,  so  that  the  grass  is 
always  exposed.      In  such  situations  they  spend  the  winter. 

The  usual  gait  of  the  elk  is  a  long,  swift  trot,  which  it  can  keep 
up  for  a  great  length  of  time  without  manifesting  fatigue.  W'licn 
greatly  frightened  they  sometimes  run.  but  this  pace,  while  perhaps 
somewhat  faster  than  the  trot,  soon  tires  the  animal.  This  species  is 
killed  almost  exclusively  by  still-hunting,  though,  on  the  plains,  it 
is  not  unusual  to  run  them  down  on  horseback.  This  requires  a 
very  good  horse  and  an  open,  favorable  country. 


SMI 


MHP 


The  North  ^Inwncan  Ccrviifcc. 


'47 


TiiK  Mri.i;-I)i;i:u  ( Curiaciis  iiuttro/is  (Say)  dray). 


This  spLcics  <j(|iials  llu;  common  Virj^nnja  deer  in  luij^rlu,  l)iit  is 
more  stoutly  l)uilt,  has  somewhat  shorter  Icj^fs,  anil  is  in  all  respects 
a  heavier,  less  graceful  animal.  The  ears  are  the  most  strikinj,' 
characteristic  of  this  deer,  and  from  them  it  has  received  the  name 
"  mule,"  or  the  Spanish  e(|iiival(;nt  hitrro,  ileer.  They  are  e.xtremely 
larj^e,  heinij  nearly  twice  as  lonj^^  and  wide  as  those  of  our  com- 
mon sptxies,  and  wlun  seen  thrown  forward,  as  the  animal  stands 
j,ra/in},r  curiously  at  one,  or  (lappinjr  hackwartl  ami  forward  as  it  runs 
away,  art;  sure  to  attract  attention.  'I'he  tail,  from  which  it  takes 
its  more  common,  hut  incorrectly  applied,  name,  "black  tail,"  is  (|uite 
unlike  that  of  an\-  other  species  of  our  Ccrvi(i(C.  It  is  short,  round, 
naked  beneath,  clothed  on  its  upper  surface  with  very  short,  white 
hairs,  and  terminates  in  a  thick  brush  of  Ioniser  jet  black  ones,  in 
summer,  the  coat  of  the  mule-deer  is  red,  the  hairs  beint;  short, 
and  so  sparsely  distributed  that  the  black  skin  is  easily  seen  throuj^h 
them.  There  is  a  trian_t,ailar  patch  of  white  upon  the  rump,  cross- 
injjf  it  at,  or  a  little  above,  the  root  of  the  tail.  I-'arly  in  the  month 
of  September,  the  close,  thick,  winter  dress  bej^ins  to  irrow,  and  the 
summer  hairs  fall  out.  The  tips  of  the  hairs  of  this  winter  jjelajfe  are 
black  ;  and  when  it  first  starts,  the  animal  for  a  short  time  appears 
almost  black.  Later,  as  the  hairs  j^row  lon^^er,  the  color  becomes 
steel-^rray ;  and  toward  the  end  of  the  winter,  when  they  are  lonji;est, 
and  each  one  shows  a  j^reater  proportion  of  white,  the  coat  becomes 
still  paler  in  cast. 

The  horns  do  not  bend  forward  so  much  as  do  those  of  Can'aciis 
I'irginiauHs,  and  each  beam  of  the  pair  is  forked  at  least  once,  and 
the  division  is  so  equal  that  it  is  difficult  to  decide  whether  th<;  ante- 
rior branch  is  the  main  beam  and  the  posterior  a  tine,  or  the  reverse. 
This  forkinjr  may  sometimes  occur  twice  or  three  times  in  the  same 
horn. 

The  mule-deer  is  found  throughout  the  greater  part  of  the  Mis- 
souri River  region,  and  thence  westward  on  the  plains,  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  in  the  Sierra  Nevadas.  It  is  an  inhabitant  of  rough, 
broken  country,  and  on  the  plains  is  usually  only  to  be  found  about 
high  buttes,  in  the  bad  lands,  or  where  the  country  is  diversified  with 


!rf'  !? 


|i 


" 

1  ■ 

i 

''■ 

n 

r-p 


;,!' 


{ 


148 


7//e  North  American  Cervidce. 


IlKAl)    OF    MlI.K-liKEK. 


rocky  ridges  dottctl  here  and  there  with  scattering  pines  or  junipers. 
Its  favorite  resorts  are  the  <"()«/('<>■,  oulches.  and  canons  which  so  often 
lirealv  up  the  hi^h  tal)le-lands  of  the  central  plateau  of  this  continent; 
Init  it  is  as  often  to  be  found  amonij  the  green  timber  high  up  on  the 
mountain-side,  or,  in  sununer,  among  the  low  trees  that  grow  just 
below  the  snow-line.  It  is  to  such  localities  as  the  last  named  that 
the  bucks  resort  during  the  summer,  when  they  are  "growing  their 
horns,"  and  when  their  thin  coat  of  hair  affonls  them  little  or  no  pro- 
tection against  the  flies. 

rile  young  of  the  mule-tleer  are  i)orn  the  last  of  May  or  early  in 
June.  They  are  two  in  number,  antl  are  prettily  spotted  like  the  calf 
elk,  the  spots  being  lost  in  September,  when  the  summer  coat  is  shed. 
Just  previous  to  this  date,  the  mother  begins  to  wean  her  fawns,  and 
hides  from  them,  not  permitting  them  to  suckle  her.  They  are, 
therefore,  quite  thin  in  the  earlv  autumn,  but  .soon  learn  to  forage  for 
themselves,  and  by  the  time  that  cold  weather  sets  in  are  fat  and  in 
(rood  condition. 


The  North  American  Cervidcc. 


149 


The  rutting  season  is  in  September  and  ()ctol)er,  the  "velvet" 
having  been  shed  from  the  antlers  during  the  early  part  of  the  for- 
mer month.  At  the  beginning  of  the  rut  the  bucks  are  enormously 
fat,  and  the  flesh  at  this  time  is  superior  to  that  of  any  deer  with 
which  I  am  ac(|uainted. 

Caton's  variety  of  the  mule-deer  (  C.  macrotis  Caii/oniictis  )  ( .liii. 
A'lr/.,  X..  464,  August,  1876)  is  distinguished  from  the  ordinary  form 
by  a  more  reddish  cast  of  pelage,  and  by  the  presence  of  a  dark  line 
extending  down  the  upper  surface  of  the  tail  and  uniting  with  the 
black  brush  at  the  tip. 


ni..\cK-T.\ii,   Dkek   ( Curiae  us  Colunibianiis  (Rich)  (iray). 

The  true  black-tail  deer  is  intermediate  in  size  between  the  mule 
and  the  common  ileer.  In  form  and  build  it  more  nearly  resembles  the 
former,  while  weighing  about  as  much  as  the  latter.  The  horns  curve 
forward  more  tlecidedly  than  in  Cariaciis  iiuurotis,  but  in  th(;  forking 
of  the  beam  it  re.sembles  that  species.  'I'he  tail,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  more  like  that  of  C.  I  '/r<^>////(i/i//s,  being  broad  and  flat,  though  not 
so  long  as  in  that  species,  and  covered  throughout  with  hair.  It  is 
white  below  and  black  above  and  on  the  sides. 

In  color,  the  black-tail  resem])les  our  common  reil  deer,  being 
bright  bay  in  summer  and  changing  to  gray  in  the  winter.  The 
under  surface  of  the  head  and  the  belly  are  white.  The  changes  in 
the  pelage,  as  regards  time  and  character,  are  similar  to  those  which 
take  [)lace  in  the  mule-deer. 

The  range  of  this  species  is  the  most  circumscribed  of  any  of  our 
Ccrvidcc.  It  appears  to  be  confined  to  a  comparativeh  narrow  strip 
of  territor\ — the  mountain  ranges  of  the  Pacific  coast.  There  is  no 
record  of  its  capture  east  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  mountains,  although 
a  hunter  of  reliability  has  informed  \\\(\  that,  in  an  e.xperience  of  ten 
years  in  the  Central  Rock\'  Mountain  region,  he  believes  that  he  has 
killed  three  deer  of  this  species.  Something  more  defi.  "tc  than  a 
doubtful  statement  of  this  kind  is  retpiired,  however,  before  we  can 
extend  the  limits  of  this  species  beyond  those  given  above.  In  the 
Sierra  Nevadas,  and  in  the  mountains  of  the  Coast  Range,  the  black- 
tail  is  abundant,  sharing  its  range  to  the  soutli  with  Caton's  mule- 
io.\ 


kv 


!?t  i : 


f!  1:1    . •4i'!'i  \\y  •""'■' 


y^  m 


'.  ^■:-'^i 


It.  :,.!f 


■'  «   (I 


!  i^t'it 


1  if 

■    1    '  : 

1  ! 

!         1 

150 


The  North  Anicncaii  Ccrvidcc. 


deer,  and  to  the  north  witli  th«'  caribou  and  the  elk.  Its  northern 
limits  do  not  appear  to  be  very  definitely  known.  I  have  myself 
met  with  it  as  far  north  on  the  Pacific  coast  as  latitude  31  ,  and 
it  may  be  assumed  that  it  is  found  many  tle^'^rees  farther  to  the 
northwaril. 

The  younjj;'  of  this  species  are  usually  born  in  .Mfty,  and  are 
spot,  d,  and  this  ornamentation  is  decitleilly  more  viviil  than  in  the 
young  of  the  mule-deer  and  the  elk.  The  spots  are  more  numerous, 
more  regularly  arranjred  in  lines,  and  nn)re  sharply  defined,  than  in 
those  species,  and  tiuis  approach  tiie  markin>,fs  i)n  the  younj;-  of  the 
common  deer. 

The  black-tail  deer  is  an  inhabitant  of  the  dense  coniferous 
forests  of  the  Pacific  coast,  and  appears  to  deliy^ht  especially  in  such 
tan_i,ded  .solitudes  as  their  dark  and  damp  recesses  afford.  riu;y  are 
seldom  found  far  from  the  timber,  or  from  some  dense  cover  into 
which  they  can  retreat  if  alarmeti.  Alony;'  the  sea-coast,  especially 
to  the  northward,  where  they  ha\e  been  but  little  hunted,  they  come 
down  frecjuently  to  the  salt  water,  for  the  purpose  of  feediny^  upon  a 
species  of  sea-weed  cast  up  by  the  waves,  and  the  trails  made  in 
their  passajre  up  and  down  tiie  sides  of  the  mountains  are  often  w  orn 
a  foot  or  two  deep,  showinjf  a  i^reat  amount  of  travel  over  them.  The 
Indians  of  British  Columbia  kill  trrcat  numbers  of  these  det^r  alonyf 
the  water's  edi^e,  stealing;  up  within  shot  in  their  liL,dit  canoes,  which 
they  paddle  noi.sele.ssly  along,  close  to  the  shore.  Still  hunting  in 
the  forest  is  practiced  with  success  in  many  localities.  Deer  are  very 
abundant  on  the  islands  and  among  the  mountains  of  this  coast, 
and  as  they  are  not  often  disturbed  they  are  ver\  unsus])icious,  and 
will  frecjuently  permit  the  hunter  to  approach  very  close  without 
taking  the  alarm.  There  are,  however,  great  areas  of  territory 
where,  owing  to  the  thick  and  tangled  character  of  the  undergrowth, 
stalking  is  out  of  the  question,  liecause  of  the  impossibilitv  of  noise- 
less progress  through  the  thickets.  Hounds  are  therefore  often  used 
to  drive  the  deer  to  certain  well-known  runways,  or  into  lakes,  rivers, 
or  arms  of  the  sea,  where  the  hunter  has  no  tlifficult\  in  paddling  or 
rowing  up  to  the  swimming  (]uarry  and  dispatching  it.  Like  the 
common  deer,  the  black-tail  is  a  rapid  swimmer,  and  I  have  seen  the 
strength  ami  skill  of  two  practiced  pacUllers  severely  ta.xed  to  bring 
a  light  canoe  up  to  a  deer  swimming  across  a  lake. 


The  Xof't/i  ,'lnicncnii  (  cyvidcc. 


151 


ViKciMA    Dkkk   iCariaciis    rirs^iiiiatius  fHocltl.)  (iray). 


The  red  iletr  is  so  well  known  that  an  oxtended  description  of  its 
physical  characteristics  seems  scarcely  necessary.  The  summer  coat 
is  l)ri_t,^ht  hay  ;  the  throat  and  under  surface  of  the  tail  beint;'  white 
at  all  seasons.  in  tlie  autumn,  the  coat  becomes  orayer  and  the 
animal  is  then  said  to  be  "  in  the  blue."  There  is  usually  a  reddish 
or  brownish  cast  over  the  deer's  coat,  even  in  winter.  The  upper  sur- 
face of  the  tail  is  dark  Jjrown.  Ilie  sliape  of  the  \'ir<,dnia  ileer  is 
the  most  graceful  of  any  of  i>ur  species.  'Ihe  heat!  is  slim  and 
delicate,  the  ears  fme  and  pointed,  ami  the  leys  loui^  ami  slender. 
The  conspicuous  feature  of  this  s[)ecies,  wht'u  frightened,  is  the  tail, 
which  is  carrietl  high  and  shows  the  white  under- surface. 

This  has  the  witlest  distribution  of  any  of  our  deir,  exteniling 
from  ocean  to  ocean,  and  from  about  the  fifty-fourth  parallel  of  north 
latitude  south  into  .Mexico,  and,  perhaps.  Central  .\merica.  L'nlike 
the  elk  and  the  mule-dei-r,  it  tloes  not  retreat  before  the  atlvance 
of  civilization,  but  when  driven  from  its  home,  disappears  for  a  short 
time  onl\,  and  soon  returns.  To-day,  there  are  i)robabl\  not  more 
than  one  or  two  States  in  the  I'nion  in  which  wild  ileer  tlo  not  exist, 
and  a  higii  authorit)  recently  wrote,  "  It  ma\-  be  fmunl  to-day  in 
every  .State  and  'l"erritor\-  of  the  I'nited  States." 

There  is  a  very  wide  variation  in  the  si/e  of  individuals  o{  this 
species  in  diflerent  and  even  in  the  same  sections  of  country.  On 
these  tlifferences,  as  ilistinguishinjx  characters,  a  number  of  supposed 
varieties  of  C.  I  '//■<;/// /ci// its  ( Icucunis.  inacntrm,  Mixiniiiiis,  and 
Coucsi )  have  l)een  basetl,  most  of  which  a|)i)ear  to  be  of  tloubtful 
validity.  There  are  l)ig-  deer  and  little  dc-er,  just  as  there  are  tall  and 
.short  men;  and  until  some  charact(;rs  more  tangible  antl  constant  than 
size  can  be  given,  it  is  scarcel\  worth  while  to  dignif\-  small  speci- 
mens of  the  X'irginia  tleer  with  varietal  names,  in  the  year  1S74, 
iluring  the  first  expi^dition  of  the  late  (ieneral  Custer  into  the  lilack 
Hills  of  Dakota,  tleer  were  found  there  in  great  numbers,  ami  most 
of  them  were  of  this  specie's,  it  was  a  common  thing  to  kill,  on  the 
same  day,  adult  bucks,  which  one  man  coukl  without  difiiculty  lift 
and  put  on  a  horse,  ami  others,  two  or  three  times  as  largt-,  which 
reiiuired  the  united  strength  of  two  men  to  put  in  the  same  position. 


ivr 


ly^ 


U'Siil 


1^' 


ita  1 


-Vl..!! 


152 


Tlic  Noftli  Anicncaii  Ccrvidcc. 


I        ;|< 


i'       1 1 


ll      If 


ii 


The  Virjj-inia  deer  seems  e(|ually  at  home  among  the  mountains, 
in  the  forest,  or  on  the  prairie.  It  delij^hts  in  dense  cover  in  which 
to  rest,  and  in  a  prairie  country  conceals  itself  during  the  greater 
portion  of  the  day  in  the  willowy  thicket  along  the  streams  or  among 
the  high  grass  of  sloughs. 

From  its  wide  distribution  and  the  consequent  variety  of  the  loca- 
tions in  which  it  makes  its  home,  it  is  hunted  in  a  number  of  different 
ways.  Still  hunting  is  the  most  legitimate  as  it  is  the  most  difficult 
method.  Hunting  with  hounds,  as  usually  practiced  in  the  South, 
has  much  to  recommend  it.  The  dogs  art:  put  on  the  track  of  the 
deer,  and  the  hunters,  armed  with  shot-guns,  follow  on  horseback, 
keeping  as  near  the  hoimds  as  possible,  and  endeavoring,  by  cut- 
ting across  corners  and  riding  chords  of  circles,  to  get  within  shot 
of  the  fleeing  animal.  To  successfully  follow  the  chase  through 
forest,  swamp,  and  canebrake.  or  along  the  rough  mountain-sides, 
requires  courage,  nerve,  and  a  firm  .seat  in  the  saddle,  and  no  better 
school  of  horsemanship  could  be  devised  than  this  method  of  deer 
hunting,  its  e.xcellence  was  well  shown  during  the  early  part  of  the 
war.  when  the  irregular  Confederate  cavalry,  armed  with  double- 
barreleil  shot-guns,  were  very  troublesome  to  the  Union  forces. 
Hounds  are  also  employed  to  drive  the  deer  to  runways  or  to  water. 
It  requires  no  very  great  degree  of  skill  to  shoot  a  deer  as  he  runs  by 
within  thirty  or  forty  yards,  and  even  less  to  kill  one  when  swimming 
in  the  water  but  a  few  feet  from  the  boat.  The  latter  method  is  there- 
fore in  high  favor  with  the  average  summer  tourist,  who  cares  nothing 
as  to  how  his  game  is  secured,  provided  onlv  he  can  truthfully  boast 
that  he  has  killed  a  deer.  Jacking  is  a  very  pernicious  method  often 
employed  in  summer  or  when  deer  are  abundant.  .\  lantern  or  fire 
of  .some  kind  is  carried,  which  discloses  the  position  of  the  deer, 
while  the  glare  of  du:  light  dazzli-s  it,  and  it  stands  gazing  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  periotl.  giving  the  iumter  an  opportunity  to  shoot. 
"  Breasting"  is  (-mployc^d  where  th(;  deer  make  their  home  among 
very  high  grass,  such  as  is  to  be  found  on  some  of  the  prairies  of  the 
South-west  or  in  the  great  beds  of  the  dry  lakes  which  are  to  be 
founil  in  northern  ami  western  Nebraska.  Here  the  thick  cane-grass 
stands  seven  or  eight  ft;et  high,  and  the  head  of  a  mounted  man  is 
only  just  visible  above  the  tops.  .Several  horsemen,  armed  with 
shot-guns,  form  a  line  on  the  leeward  side  of  the  space  to  be  hunted 


The  Noyth  ^liiieyicaii  Ccyvidcc. 


•53 


over  and  ride;  tliroujrh  it,  a  little;  more  than  a  jrun-shot  apart.  The 
(leer  that  lie  in  their  course  are  starteil  from  the  .L;rass,  and  bound 
off  ahead  of  the  hunters,  every  now  anil  then  showinj^  their  backs 
above  the  tops  of  the  _L(rass.  The  horsemen  have  to  shoot  from  the 
saddle,  and  very  (|uickly,  to  secure;  their  game. 

I^'ossil  deer  occur  in  the  tertiar)-  deposits  of  North  America.  In 
the;  Mioc(;ne  of  the  \\'(;st  are  found  remains  of  deer-like  animals, 
Lcptoiiicryx :  and  from  the  lower  lMioce;ne  a  ^enus  of  true  deer, 
Cosoryw  has  b(;(;ii  describetl,  of  which  there  are  several  species. 
These  all  have  very  small  antlers,  which  are  ilivided  into  two  tines. 
In  their  osteological  characters  these  deer  differed  from  existinj^ 
species  in  many  respects.  The  orbit  was  not  closed  behind,  and  the 
m(;tapodial  (splint)  bon(;s  wen;  entire;,  though  those  of  the  second 
and  fifth  digits  were  very  slender. 

In  the  Post-pliocene  deposits,  species  of  tle;er,  closely  allie;el  to 
our  elk,  moos(;,  and  caribou,  have  been  found,  the  latter  having  been 
met  with  far  south  of  its  prese;nt  range. 


M 


■\i 


'W  Ym 


■  I  i 


"\m 


fi 


l!| 


iWif 


(       t: 


MOOSH-HUNTING. 


Hy  charlks  c.  ward. 


IT  is  much  to  be  rciirettcd  that  a  nianimal  of  so  much  dignity 
and  importance  as  the  American  moose  ( Ccrvus  Alecs —  Linn.  ; 
Alec  .Ivicrieanits — Jardine)  is  fast  cUsappearing  from  our  forests. 
Tardy  legishition  is  doing  something,  it  is  true,  for  his  protection, 
and  may  probably  prevent  a  repetition  of  such  a  scene  as  happened 
on  the  Tobique  River  in  the  province  of  New  Mrunswick.  several  years 
ago,  \\\\v.n  several  hundred  of  these  noble  animals  were  slaughtered 
for  the  sake  of  their  hides,  and  their  carcasses  left  to  rot  in  the  forest. 
To  the  early  settlers  in  the  States  of  Maine,  Vermont,  and  New 
Hampshire,  and  the  provinces  of  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick,  the 
flesh  of  the  moose  was  the  main -stay,  and  his  hide  furnished  them 
with  serviceable  clothing.  At  the  present  time,  with  the  exception 
of  Maine,  the  moose  are  almost  extinct  in  the  Eastern  States,  and 
they  are  becoming  scarce  in  Nova  .Scotia.  In  New  Brunswick,  they 
are  seldom  found  on  the  rivers  emptying  into  the  Bay  of  Fundy, 
where  in  former  days  they  existed  in  vast  numbers.  They  can  yet 
be  found,  however,  in  considerable  numbers  on  the  head-waters  of 
the  Restigouche  and  Miramichi  rivers  and  their  branches  ;  in  the 
provinces  of  Ouebec  and  Ontario  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence ;  in 
the  central  parts  of  the  county  of  Rimouski,  and  thence  southward 
along  the  borders  of  Maine,  and  all  through  the  country  south  of 
the  city  of  Ouebec  to  New  Hampshire.  In  the  county  of  Gaspe 
they  are  extinct,  having  been  exterminated  by  ruthless  hunters  for 
the  sake  of  their  hides.  North  of  the  Ottawa  and  .St.  Lawrence 
rivers,  the  moose  ranges  from  Lake  Wanapitiping  nearly  to  the 
Sagucnay.  Their  northern  limit  is  now  somewhere  near  the  water- 
shed of  Hudson  Bay  ;  it  was  formerly  beyond  it.  The  western  limit 
is  about  the  longitude  of  Lake  Huron.     None  are  now  found  north 


Moose  -  Hit  II  ting. 


155 


of  Lake  Superior,  although  they  have  existed  in  this  region  as  far 
north  as  the  Albany  River.  In  the  North-west  territories,  they  are 
found  as  far  as  the  Mackenzie  River.  A  friend  gave  me  the  measure- 
ments of  a  moose  killed  in  Rupert's  Land,  which,  if  correct,  would 
go  far  to  verify  some  of  the  old-time  stories  of  the  wondrous  size 
of  the  moose.  In  the  United  States,  moose  are  still  found  in  sufficient 
numbers  to  warrant  the  belief  that,  by  judicious  protection,  the 
species  might  be  perpetuated.  They  are  ([uite  abundant  in  Oregon, 
Washington  Territory,  and  the  whole  northern  border  of  the  Ihiited 
States  as  far  as  the  Lake  of  the  Woods.  They  are  still  met  with 
occasionally  in  the  northern  part  of  Michigan,  along  the  shores  of 
Lake  Superior,  and  ver)'  rarely  in  northern  Vermont  and  the  Adi- 
rondack region.  They  also  inhabit  the  wooded  region  of  the  great 
lakes  and  that  lying  thence  westward  to  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The 
southernmost  point  at  which  they  have  been  found  in  the  West  is 
in  Idaho,  on  the  forks  of  the  Snake  River  near  the  Three  Teton.s, 
where  several  were  seen  and  killed  by  members  of  the  United  States 
Geological  and  Geographical  Survey  of  the  Territories.  The  present 
southern  limits  of  the  moose  on  the  Atlantic  coast  are  the  provinces 
of  New  Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia,  in  the  Bay  of  I'\mdy.  These 
provinces  are  still  his  favorite  haunts,  and  here  in  the  present  day 
he  is  most  accessible  to  the  hunter.  This  is  perhaps  owing  to  the 
infinite  number  of  lakes  and  the  prevalence  of  swampy,  low-lying 
woods  and  bogs,  in  which  he  loves  to  dwell.* 

The  color  of  the  American  moose  when  in  his  prime  is  almost  jet 
black,  becoming  more  or  less  streaked  with  brownish  gray  as  the  ani- 
mal advances  in  years.  The  head  is  so  large  as  to  appear  out  of  har- 
mony with  the  other  proportions  of  the  body.  The  ears  are  upward 
of  one  foot  long,  yellowish  brown  in  color,  and  bordered  with  a  nar- 
row strip  of  a  deeper  shade,  the  inside  lined  with  yellow  hairs.  Sur- 
rounding the  orbit  of  the  eye  the  skin  is  destitute  of  hair,  and  is  of  a 
pale  flesh  color ;  the  eye  is  a  velvety  brown,  and  soft  in  expression, 
except  when  the  animal  is  wounded  or  brought  to  ba>-,  wh(!n  it  as- 
sumes a  lurid  hue  and  a  twinkling,  savage  expression.     The  flanks 

*  I  l)eu  to  acknowledge  the  kindness  of  Professor  Haird,  of  the  Smithsonian  In- 
stit-  .ion.  Dr.  Klliott  Cones,  U.  S.  A.,  and  Professor  Hell, of  the  (leologi(al  Survey  of 
Canada,  in  furnishintr  me  with  the  latest  information  with  regard  to  the  geographical 
distribution  of  the  moose. 


i. 


\ 


m. 


w 


m 


If' 


156 


.  Moose  -  Hunting. 


art:  a  yellowish  white,  and  liie  lc_<;s  Ijrown,  and  of  extraordinary 
lenj^th.  White,  ot"  Selhorne,  writing  of  a  moose  which  he  had  seen, 
quaintly  remarks  upon  "  the  strange  lenj^th  of  its  legs,  on  which  it 
was  tilted  up  much  in  the  manner  of  the  birds  of  the  gralla-  order." 
A  curious  muscular  development  of  the  upper  lip.  termed  the  moutle, 
is  common  to  lioth  sexes,  and  a  pendulous  gland  hangs  from  the  neck 
of  the  males.  The  neck  and  withers  are  surmounted  by  a  volumin- 
ous mane  of  a  light  gray  color.  This  hair  is  dyed  various  brilliant 
colors  by  the  Indians,  and  is  used  to  embroider  designs  upon  birch 
bark,  velvet,  and  otiier  materials. 

The  largest  moose  that  I  ever  saw  measured  six  feet  and  nearly 
five  inches  at  the  withers,  a  trifle  less  at  the  buttock,  and  four  feet 
and  five  inches  from  the  withers  to  the  buttock,  and  from  withers  to 
the  top  of  the  skull,  twenty-seven  inches.  The  head  measured  two 
feet  and  \wv.  inches  from  the  moufle  to  a  point  ])etween  the  ears,  and 
nine  inches  between  the  eyes.  The  horns  weighed  forty-five  pounds, 
and  measured  four  feet  and  three  inches  from  tine  to  tine  at  their 
widest  i)art.  and  at  their  greatest  width  the  palmated  parts  measured 
thirteen  inches.  The  horn,  at  its  junction  with  the  skull,  was  eight 
inches  in  circumferiMice.  The  whole  carcass,  before  gralloching,  must 
have  weighed  close  upon  twelve  hundred  pounds.  1  have  heard  of 
cases  where  the  specimen  exceeded  these  measurements,  but  the  re- 
ports lacked  confirmation  I'he  moose  is  commonly  represented 
very  much  higher  at  the  withers  than  at  the  buttock,  which  is  un- 
doubtedly a  mistake,  as  in  no  instance  (and  I  have  measured  many 
animals)  have  I  found  any  great  difference  in  favor  of  height  at  the 
withers,  although  the  mane  gives  a  casual  observer  a  contrary  im- 
pression. The  great  length  of  its  legs  and  prehensile  lip  are  of  much 
benefit  to  the  moose,  and  wonderfully  adapted  to  his  mode  of  feeding, 
which  consists  in  peeling  the  bark  from,  and  browsing  upon,  the 
branches  and  tender  shoots  of  deciduous  trees.  When  the  branches 
or  tops  of  trees  are  beyond  his  reach,  he  resorts  to  the  process  termed 
by  hunters  "riding  down  the  tree."  by  getting  astride  of  it  and  bear- 
ing it  down  by  the  weight  of  his  body  until  the  coveted  branches  are 
within  his  reach. 

The  senses  of  smelling  and  hearing  are  very  acute;  his  long  ears 
are  ever  moving  to  and  fro.  intent  to  catch  the  slightest  sound,  and 
his  wonderfully  constructed  nose  carries  the  signal  of  danger  to  his 


Moose  -  ihiuting. 


•57 


KiniNO    nOWN    A    TRRE. 


brain  loni;"  before  the  unwary  hunter  has  the  sht^Hitest  idea  that  his 
pr(!sence  is  suspected.  When  alarmed,  this  ponderous  animal  moves 
away  with  the  silence  of  death,  carefully  avoidinjr  all  obstructions, 
and  selecting'  the  moss-carpeted  ht)!Lrs  and  swales,  tlirouj^di  which  he 
threads  his  wax  with  a  persistence  that  often  sets  at  defiance  all  the 
arts  and  endurance  of  even  the  practiced  Intlian  hunter. 

Much  has  been  said  anil  w'ritten  of  the  un.ijainl\-  ap|)earance  of 
the  moose.  Probablv  very  few  persons  have  seen  the  moose  in  his 
wild  state, —  perhaps  only  aftt-r  he  has  passed  throui^h  the  hands  i^{ 
SOUK!  unskill(Hl  taxidermist,  whence  he  emerges,  in  most  instances, 
an  animal  fearfull\-  and  wonderfullv  maile.  Xo  person  who  has  seen 
this  noble  animal  in  his  native  forests  couKl  fail  to  be  impressed  with 
the  majestv  and  i^randeur  of  his  appearance.  .\  tew  y<ars  a^o,  1  was 
painting"  some  tre(»  studies  near  one  oi  the  numerous  lakes  in  Char- 
lotte County,  New  Brunswick,  and  for  a  lony^  time  I  sat  workinn;  in 
utter  silence,  until  my  attention  was  attracted  by  a  movement  in  tiie 
l)ranches,  antl  [presently  a  maijnificent  moose  came  out  into  the  open, 
and  walked  quietly  down  to  a  pond  almost  directly  in  front  of  me, 
with  his  head  erect  and  his  broad  anders  thrown  back  almost  to  his 


'''I 


L^i 


158 


.  Moose  - 1 1 II II  ting. 


'iir 


rJ 


witliers ;  his  jet  l)lack  skin,  spottcil  white  by  tlie  checkered  sunlight, 
shone  as  glossy  as  satin.  I'or  a  moment  lie  stood  silent,  as  it  listen- 
ing, then  moved  away,  all  unconscious  that  he  had  had  a  spectator. 

A  fiill-groun  moose  sheds  his  horns  in  the  month  of  January,  and 
they  are  not  again  fully  restored  until  the  end  of  August.  My  this 
time  the  velvet  has  been  worn  off  ami  the  horns  are  a  rich  fawn  color, 
shaded  or  marked  with  dark  brown,  and  polished  by  having  been 
rul)i)ed  on  the  stems  of  the  poplar  and  larch.  The  animal  is  now  in 
the  perfection  of  his  strength  and  condition,  and  emerging  from  the 
swamps  and  l)ogs  where  he  has  spent  the  summer,  feeding  on  the 
yellow  pond-lilies,  and  evading  the  moose-tly  and  similar  pests  by 
frequentl)'  standing  neck  deep  in  some  forest  lake,  he  abandons  the 
long  silence  maintained  while  his  horns  were  in  the  velvet,  and  enters 
upon  the  rutting  season — a  noisy,  aggressive,  and  pugnacious  char- 
acter. The  fights  which  now  occur  between  the  old  males  are  terrific. 
Greek  has  met  Cireek,  and  the  combat  is  often  {prolonged  until  their 
horns  become  ine.xtricably  interlaced,  and  both  animals  die  a  miser- 
able death.  I  once  saw.  in  the  month  of  October,  two  pairs  of  horns 
firmly  locked  together,  with  parts  of  the  skulls  attached,  sticking  out 
of  a  swamp,  but  as  we  were  on  the  trail  of  a  moose  and  had  no  time 
to  spare,  1  failed  to  secure  them  ;    I  could  never  find  the  spot  again. 

Early  in  May,  the  cow-moose  brings  forth  two,  and  sometimes 
three  calves,  of  a  dark  fawn  color  and  slightly  dappled.  It  has  been 
affirmed  that  the  cow- moose  retires  to  some  sequestered  spot  in  order 
to  protect  her  voung  from  the  attacks  of  bears  and  also  of  the  bull- 
moose,  but  I  am  of  opinion  that  the  latter  is  not  at  any  time  very 
distant  from  the  cow  and  her  calves. 

On  one  occasion,  in  the  early  summer,  I  saw  an  old  cow-moose, 
with  two  calves,  come  out  from  an  island  in  a  lake  and  disport  in  the 
water.  Presently  a  very  large  bull-moose  came  out  of  the  forest  at  a 
little  distance  from  them,  and  began  to  eat  the  roots  of  the  yellow 
pond-lily,  which  he  procured  by  diving  for  them  and  bringing  them 
to  the  surface  of  the  water  in  his  teeth.  While  he  was  still  feeding, 
the  cow  and  her  calves  retired. 

On  the  approach  of  winter,  the  moose  form  into  small  herds  of 
five  or  si.x  animals,  often  containing  a  bull,  a  cow,  and  the  young  of 
two  seasons,  and  establish  themselves  in  what  is  termed  a  moose- 
yard.     The  yard  is  situated  in  some  part  of  the  country  where  there 


f 
If 


Moose  -  Him  ting. 


'59 


\    MOOSI.    FAMll.V. 


is  an  abundant  j^rowth  of  yoiiny  decitluoiis  trees,  such  as  tin;  white 
birch,  pophir,  maples,  and  mountain  ash  ;  these,  toi^ctlier  with  a  few 
of  the  coniferous  trees,  the  balsam  fir  and  juniper,  form  the  staple 
diet  of  the  moose.  Some  writers  maintain  that  tht:  bull-moose  never 
yards  with  the  females  and  younjj;'.  but  this  is  ilisproved  i)y  my  <nvn 
experience  as  a  moosc'-huntt-r,  extenilin^'  over  a  period  of  man\' 
years,  and  in  company  with  one  of  tiie  most  intelligent  and  accom- 
plished Indian  iruides.  I  have  on  many  occasions  found  and  killed 
males  occupying;  the  same  yard  with  old  and  youn*;-  females.      .\  few 

years  atjo,  when  out  on  a  hunt  with  my  friend,  Colonel  W ,  and 

some  Indian  jj^uiiles.  \\v.  discovered  a  moose-yard,  occupied  l)v  a  very 
lary^e  bull,  two  cows,  ami  younjj^er  animals,  .\fter  a  lonj^'  and  des- 
perat(!  hunt,  we  killeil  the  bull  and  capturi-d  one  of  the  youn^;'  moose 
alivt'.  I  admit  that  very  olil  l)ulls,  L;riz/l(.'d  with  ajjj^i;,  their  horns 
almost  bleached  white,  affect  solitary  habits,  and  yard  alone. 

The  maximum  ajLje  attainctd  by  the  moose  is  difficult  to  deter- 
mine;  some  hunters  proiess  to  jud^je  by  the  number  of  tines  on  the 
horns,  but  that  methotl  is  not  to  be  relied  u])oii.  The  Indians  say 
that  the  horns  do  not  attain  their  full  sizi?  until  the  sixth  year,  and 


'  I 


iii 


liiiUP 


i6o 


Moose -//nutiii^i^. 


:!i 


I 


A     Ml)ll^l.-\  AKl 


thai  tlii'ii  tin;  tines  ami  palination  arc  ptrfi'ct;  and  further,  that  the 
ihn'ation  of  hfe  is  probably  about  twenty  years. 

("here  an:  three  modes  of  huntinL,''  tiie  moose,  ternu'd  still  lumtini;-, 
fire;  hunting;,  antl  calling'.  There  was  another  mode,  which,  1  am 
happy  to  say,  lei^isiation  has  in  a  i^reat  nu-asure  sui)pressed.  1  refer 
to  tile  wholesale  slau.!:,diter  of  the  unfortunate  animals  when  the  dec:p- 
lyint,''  snows  of  a  protracted  winter  had  imprisoned  tlu'in  in  their 
yards  antl  remlered  th<'m  only  a  too  easy  pre\'  to  the  unprincipled 
butclu!rs  who  slew  them  for  tlu;  sake  of  their  skins. 

To  be  successful  in  still  huntiuLj.  or  creeping  upon  tln'  moose, 
neci'ssitates  the  aitl  of  a  skillful  Indian  j^uide.  \'ery  few,  if  anv,  white 
men  i-vi'r  attain  the  marvelous  precision  with  which  an  Indian,  i" 
whom  the  pathl(;ss  forest  is  an  open  book  which  he  reads  as  I  vv  . 
will   track   to   its   death   an   animal    so   exct'etlin,irl\-   sensiti  Jie 

approach  of  man.  i'his  yift,  or  instinct,  seems  born  with  t  .idian, 
and   is   practicetl  from   his  early  childhood.      It  is  not  unce-     'i'>nt<i 


fmd| 

arrnl 

insel 

expq 

the 


Moose -Hunting. 


l6l 


fincl  littlt!  liulian  hoys  in  the  forest,  several  miles  from  the  wij^fwam. 
armeil  witii  a  how  and  arrows,  the  latter  havinj^^  an  old  knifed)hule 
inserted  in  thi;  heails.  ( )ne  litlk-  fi;liou  nanu-d  Socotoma  was  a  very 
t'xpert  shot,  and  woe  hetide  iiiif-r/ii-css,  the  arouse,  and  ii/aZ-d-t^itis, 
the   hare,  if  they  happened   in   the   way  of  little   Socotoma  when   he 


Snco'luMA. 


was  on  the  war-path  ;   and  althoii>,di  he  could  not  thus  he  killed,  even 
iiioo-iii.  the  hear,  would  he  likely  to  feel  the  "  stint,nn,o-  arrow." 

The  finely  modulated  voice  of  the  Indian  is  especially  adapti'd  lo 
imitate  the  differc^nt  calls  and  crit.'s  of  the  ilenizens  of  tin;  forest,  and 
with  a  trumpet  of  hirch  hark  he  will  imitate  to  the  lift;  the  plaintive 
low  of  the  cow- moose  and  thi-  responsive  hellow  of  the  hull,  h'arly 
niornin<r,  twilitjht,  or  moonliy;^ht  are  all  favorahh;  to  this  manner  of 
huntinijf.  The  Indian,  having-  selected  a  favorahle  position  for  his 
I  I 


¥\ 


'I'  :a' 


k  (i''!'!l' 


r 


■   ■ 


i  l' 


1   W  ,■ 


I  U\ 


'■   ii 


162 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


'aSmm 


TIIK    MOOSR-CAl.l.. 


purpose,  generally  on  the  martij^in  of  a  lake,  heath,  or  1)o_l;.  where  he 
can  readily  conceal  himself,  puts  his  birchen  trumpet  to  his  nouth, 
and  gives  the  call  of  the  cow-moose  in  a  manner  so  startling'  and 
truthful  that  only  the  educated  ear  of  an  Indian  could  detect  the 
counterfeit.  If  the  call  is  successful,  uresently  the  responsive  hull- 
moose  is  hearil  crashin<,r  throuy;-h  the  fniest,  utterinj^'  his  hlood-curd- 
linj;-  bellow  or  roar,  and  rattlinjr  his  horns  against  the  trees  in  chal- 
lenge to  all  rivals,  as  he  conies  to  the  death  which  awaits  l>lni. 
Should  the  imitation   be  poor,  the  bull  will  either  not  respond  at  all, 


'Oiii 


.  Moose  -  Hiiiifijig. 


163 


or  approach  in  a  stualthy  manner  and  retire  on  cliscovory  of  the 
cheat.  Moose-calUnir  is  seldom  attempted  by  white  men,  the  j^ift  of 
calliny;  with  success  beint^  rare  even  amont;  the  Indians. 

I'ire  huntinq^,  or  hunting  by  torch-hght,  is  practiced  by  i;.\hil)it- 
ing  a  Ijright  light,  formed  by  burning  bunches  of  birch  bark  in  places 
known  to  be  fre(|uented  by  moose.  The  brilliant  light  seems  to  fas 
cinate  the  animal,  and  he  will  readily  approach  within  range  of  liie 
rifle.  rile  torch  placed  in  the  bow  of  a  canoe  is  also  used  as  a  hire 
on  a  lake  or  ri\er,  but  is  attended  with  consiilerable  danger,  as  a 
woundetl  or  enraged  moose  will  not  imfre(|uently  upset  the  canoe. 

The  mode  of  hunting  which  generally  prevails  is  that  of  still 
hunting,  or  creeping  upon  the  moose,  which  is  undoubtedly  the  most 
sportsmanlike  way,  and  affords  the  greatest  pleasure.  Still  hunting 
can  be  practiced  in  .September,  and  all  through  the  early  winter 
months,  until  the  snow  becomes  so  tleep  that  it  would  be  a  sin  to 
molest  the  poor  animals.  I'he  months  of  September  and  ()ct()l)er 
are  charming  months  for  camping  out,  and  the  moose  are  then  in 
fine  contlition,  and  great  skill  and  endurance  are  called  for  on  the 
part  oi  the  hunter.  The  moose  possesses  a  vast  amount  of  pluck, 
antl  when  once  started  on  his  long,  swinging  trot,  his  legs  seem  tire- 
less, and  he  will  stride  over  bowlders  and  windfalls  at  a  pace  which 
soon  distances  his  pursuers,  and,  i)ut  for  the  sagacity  of  the  Indian 
guide  in  picking  out  the  trail,  would  almost  always  escape. 


I     ,li1 


:J 


v.^/.v.^ 


sill. I.    Ill  NTINU. 


II  -mi 

•til      ■!         :       Mil' 


'i1 


i\  ■ 


■mX 


i 


.1    1: 


I'm 


i. '  ■! 


t 


164 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


i 


! 


I'lm,     IILNI'INC. 


It"  the  sportsman  coinljiiics  the  tastes  of  a  naturalist  with  iiis  love  of 
out-door  life,  his  camping- out  holichu  will  proxc  all  the  more  enjoy- 
able. One  often  hears  the  remark,  "  Mow  strange  it  is  thai  animals, 
birds,  life  of  any  kintl,  is  so  seklom  met  with  in  an  American  forest  !  ' 
My  own  c;.\perience,  and  1  doubt  not  that  of  nian\'  other  lovers  ot 
nature,  has  been  very  difterent.  for  whatever  \()ur  name  may  be,  \()U 
will  seldom  Ljain  the  confines  of  the  forest  without  l)ein^'  greeted  as 
"Sweet  Willie,"  i)y  hi-lia-iiciis,  the  smaller  red-polU.'d  linni't,  and  you 
will  not  have  traveled  far  before  the  little  chickadee,  hans^in.y  head 
ilown  as  is  his  wont,  will  welcome  you  to  the  forest.  The  Intlian 
name  for  little  black-cap,  kic/i-c-i^c-i^c/cts,  is  svu-prisinL;l\  like  his  note 
of  <j^reetinL,r.      And  before  you  fairly  jret  your  lunch  out,  that  ubi(|ui- 


\^^LUtKSiSiS0Klk 


f 


<) 
)\  - 

lis. 

of 
oil 
as 
oil 
•ad 
ian 
)tc 
ui- 


Moosc  -  Him  ting. 


165 


tons  rascal  with  the  long  string  of  ja\v-l)rcaking  names,  Corviis  Cana- 
densis, Pcrisoreiis  Canndi'iisis,{lM\iv\i\'yAy,  itiii/'-l'aiitt-sis,  whisky-jack, 
or  moose-bird,  will  perch  on  the  toe  of  your  boot,  or  some  other  point 
of  vantage,  and  dispute  every  mouthful  with  you  ;  while  iiic-kok,  the 
Jittle  red  scjuirrel,  is  sure  to  l)e  on  hand,  chattering  (pierulously  for 
his  share  of  the  crumbs.  Presently,  the  tall  ferns  in  front  of  you 
wave  slightly,  and  iiiai-a-s^iiis,  the  hare,  bounds  oft";  and  if  you  watch 
(juietly  you  will  probai^ly  see  (jiia/c-s/s,  the  iox,  follow  cjuickly  on  his 
trail, — and  all  this  while  you  are  eating  your  lunch.  That  over,  you 
start  on  the  business  of  the  day,  fishing  or  shooting,  and  at  almo.st 
every  step  you  are  surroundetl  by  the  denizens  of  the  forest.  There  is 
that  old  hen-grouse  again,  with  the  broken  wing,  which  is  not  broken 
at  all ;  she  is  only  fooling  \  ou  while  her  brood  of  little  chicks  are 
scampering  off  out  of  your  way.  That  bunch  of  tumbled  brakes,  not 
yet  recovered  from  the  pressure  of  some  heav\'  body,  tells  you  that 
moo-in,  the  bear,  has  been  roused  from  his  mid-day  nap,  and  is  beating 
a  hasty  retreat  on  your  approach.  A  foot-print  in  the  wet  moss,  not 
unlike  that  of  a  large  dog,  hints  to  you  that  lua-al-sin,  the  wolf,  is  at 
his  old  tricks  again,  chasing  th^  deer.  If  you  are  bent  on  fishing,  and 
are  careful  as  jou  approach  the  stream,  you  may  detect  that  industri- 
ous individual,  qiia-bcci,  the  beaver,  repairing  a  leak  in  his  dam.  And 
in  particular,  rest  assured,  if  you  succeed  in  catching  some  trout,  that 
the  daring  thief,  clie-ok-k'is,  the  mink,  will  be  apt  to  steal  them  from 
under  your  very  nose  ;  and  in  the  gloaming  your  ears  will  be  charmed 
i)y  a  chorus  of  many  songsters,  leil  by  that  melodious  vocalist  the 
hermit  thrush.  .\nd  yet  there  are  jjeople  who  say  there  is  in)  life 
in  an  American  forest  ! 

In  moose-hunting,  the  services  of  a  trustworthy  Indian  guide  are 
indispensable,  not  only  to  insure  success,  but  for  the  sake  of  comfort. 
These  Indians  are  masters  of  wootl-craft,  ami  can  start  a  fire  in  the 
heaviest  rain  or  snow  storm;  the\- are  also  expert  a.\-meii,  ami  fur- 
nish an  abundant  supi)ly  of  dr\-  hre-wood,  and  keep  up  sucli  a  roar- 
ing fire  in  front  of  the  comfortabU;  bark-covereil  camp,  that  the  cokl 
is  seldom  felt,  even  when  camping  out  in  winter  on  the  snow.  The 
writer  has  been  fortunate  in  having  had  on  his  hunting  expeditions 
the  services  (A  Sebatis,  a  member  of  the  tribe  of  I'assamaquoddy 
Indians,  who,  unlike  their  savage  brethren  of  the  plains,  are  a  peace- 
ful and  interesting  people,  and  live  cpiietlv  on   their  reservations  at 

I  lA 


";|! 


\  \r 


li 


t'  111  1 


it*  i  ,i ' 


1  ^ 


'■\   '    1 
I    ■' 


i       I 


i:!t| 


i   )i 


1 66 


Moose  -  Hull  ting. 


I'lc!as;int  I'oint,  near  lCast[)()rt,  Maine.  Tlic  l'assaina(iU(Klclics  re- 
ceive suhsidy  from  tlu'  I'nited  Slates  and  Canaiiian  t^^overnnicnts, 
anil  lhe\'  aiul  ihe  l'(;n()l)sc()l  Indians  iiaxi'  I'ach  a  representative  of 
their  own  race  in  the  Maine  le_t,^is!ature. 

M\-  tried  frienil  and  companion  of  many  a  hunt,  Sei)atis,  is  a 
thorou^hhreii  Indian  of  Mohawk  I'u  :;cent,  and  an  accompiishetl 
hunter.  iiis  wonderful  knowledije  of  the  wooils,  and  of  the  liahits 
of  animals  and   birds,    trained   in    a   life-lonjj;   experience,  is  seklom 


M(H)>I.-I11KI1> 


ecjualed,  and  he  deliirhts  to  impart  his  knowleilt^^e,  and  can  readily 
_s.,nve  tin;  Indian  names  for,  and  relate;  the  habits  of,  any  animal  or 
bird  incjuired  about.  He  is  also  an  excellent  story-teller,  antl  as  he 
is  a  model  of  sobriety,  oni;  never  ap])ri;henils  that  his  interestintr 
yarns  and  hair-brciailth  'scapes  are  merel\-  the  voluble  flow  of  "  after 
dinner  talk." 

He  has  frt;(|uentU'  drawn  ;  .y  attention  to  the  curious  fact  that  we 
invariably  met  lari^^e  numbers  of  moose-birds  when  we  hajjpeneil  to 
be  in  a  moose  countr\.       The   moose  is  inft^sted  1)\  a  tick,  which  his 


Moose  -Hunting. 


167 


friend,  th(;  m()osc-l)ircl,  is  vcr)'  liapj))  ' 
to  Relieve;  him  of.  Schatis  states  that 
the  moose  iiermits  the  hircl  to  alis^ht 
upon  him  for  that  purpose,  and  judg- 
insr  from  what  I  liave  seen  of  the 
lameness  of  the  moose-hird,  and  the 
hhertic;s  tiiat  he  takes  with  the;  \is- 
itors  to  the  woods,  I  can  rt:aihly 
he^lieve  it.  MoreovcM',  the  moosi;- 
bird  is  a  carrion  bird,  antl  perliaps, 
on  the  advent  of  iumte-rs,  "smelleth 
the  battle  afar  off." 

.\  few  yc'ars  sinct;,  in  the  montii  of 
()ctol)er,  on  retm-nint;'  from  ^roiise- 
huntin.^'  I  was  belated,  aiul,  darkness 
overtakini:;'  me,  1  accepted  the  invita- 
tion of  my  friend  .Sebatis  to  spind  the 
nii^ht  at  his  wiijwam.  .Sel)atis  in  his 
rambles  hail  discovertxl  the  trail  and 
sijrn  of  a  lar^e  moose,  and  proposed 
that  I  shoiiUl  join  him  in  beatin!^  up 
his  (|uarti;rs  next  day. 

in  the  mornino,  1  sent  into  the  villaj^-e  for  my  rille  ami  a  supjjly 
of  provisions,  on  the  rect'ii)t  of  which  we  enlistetl  the  scirvices  of 
Swarsin,  a  brother  of  Sebatis,  and  boarckxl  the  hitler's  canoe  in  the 
lake  where  he  had  left   it   the  jjh^vIous  evenini,^      We   paddled   three 


)  \V      AMI     II    liM;      lilKIIS 


'rh'ti 


I 


,.li    llr  •:  111     » 


rn 


\.  , .' 


*  I 


WW 


!  1 


11 


1 68 


,    i! 


■im.f 


Moose  -  Hun  ting. 


\    MiiosK-lllN  n  H  s    CAMP 


mik's  up  tlu;  western  side  of  tlie  lake,  then  portaged  two  miles  to 
another  lake,  where  we  intended  to  establish  our  head-quarters.  On 
our  way.  we  started  several  coveys  of  ruffed  grouse,  and  twice  had  a 


tlH 


.4i0tiaHlm 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


169 


chance  to  shoot  deer,  but  Seliatis  forliade  molesting  them,  for  fear 
wi:  might  thereby  alarm  the  moose. 

The  next  clay  wt;  were  early  astir,  and  Se!)atis  started  off  alone  to 
reconnoiter.  In  about  an  hour  he  returned  and  told  me,  in  a  mys- 
terious manner,  that  he  had  found  signs  of  two  moose,  one  of  which 
was  a  very  large  one,  —  and  that  he  km^w  him  ver\  well.  L'pon  my 
asking  for  an  explanation  of  such  a  strange  statement,  Sebatis  said: 

"  More'n  two  years  ago  I  hunt  these  mount'ins  with  Lola — find 
sign  ver)-  big  moose.  You  see  1  can  tell  must  be  ])retty  big  moose, 
'cause  he  peel  bark  so  high  on  trees ;  never  all  my  life  see  moose  peel 
'em  bark  so  high." 

"  Well,  .Sebatis,"  I  said,  "  1  suppose  the  sooner  we  get  on  his  trail 
the  better  ?  " 

"  Sartin,  start  now,  lake  two  days'  provisions;  big  moose  very 
strong,  may  be  travel  long  ways  before  we  kill  'em. " 

'•  Xot  come  camp  again  to-night?"  inquired  Swarsin,  who  looked 
after  his  comfort. 

"  \o,"  replietl  .Sebatis;  "may  be  never  set;  camp  again.  I  think 
big  moose  devil.  " 

.Swarsin  was  lazy  antl  ver\-  superstitious,  consequently  the  allusion 
to  ills  Satanic  majesty  (.lid  not  hasten  matters  in  packing  for  the  hunt, 
and  I  imagine  that  he  did  not  relish  the  prospect  of  a  two-days' 
tramp  after  an  animal  with  such  a  (jueslionable  reputation,  for  he  was 
longer  than  usual  in  getting  the  things  together. 

"Swarsin  just  like  old  woman,  so  slow,"  said  .Sebatis.  "Best 
l(,'a\e  'im  take  care  camp,  shoot  'em  chi|)munks  an'  rabbits." 

This  hastened  Swarsin,  and  in  a  few  moments  we  were  off. 

.Sebatis  led  the  way,  which  was  anytiiing  but  a  ])leasant  one,  for 
at  the  start  we  had  to  cross  a  wide  l)og,  and  grt^at  care  was  retiuired 
in  placing  one's  feet,  as  a  misstep  let  one  into  the:  waist  in  the  oozy 
mire.  On  the  farthi:r  sidi;  of  the  bog  a  rai)id  brook  flowed  at  the  foot 
of  a  hard-wood  ridge.  My  jumping  from  bowlder  to  bowkler  we,  all, 
as  I  supposed,  reached  the  other  side  in  saft'ty,  but  on  looking  back 
I  saw  Swarsin  hesitating  on  the  last  jump,  which  was  a  pretty  stiffish 
one.  In  such  a  case  to  hesitate;  is  to  i)recipitate  a  disaster,  which 
provc;d  true  in  poor  Swarsin's  case,  as  he  jum|)ed  short  of  the  bank, 
and  in  an  instant  the  quick  water  swirled  him  past.  In  a  few 
moments  he  rejoinetl  us,  much  cn.'st- fallen. 


r  ,  '\\ 


'V\ 


m%\ 


I'H     :f 


1    ,"  '• 


J 


!    \ 


till  I 
ill 


1 1  : 


170 


Moose- 1  hinting. 


"  I  make  mistake  tliis  luornin'  wlun  1  call  Swarsin  olc  woman  ; 
Swarsin  nnisi|iiash  [muskrat],  likc'm  water  pretty  well,  "  said  Sebatis. 

Heinj4'  in  close  proximity  to  the  inoose-siun  discovered  1)\  Sehatis 
in  the  mornini^,  we  hail  to  proceed  witii  extriMne  caution  so  as  not  to 
make  the  sliLihtc:st  noise,  anil  at  the  same  time  keep  to  the  li;eward 
of  the  moose.  We  had  just  gained  the  cover  of  a  maple  forest  ulien 
Sehatis  halted  ahrujjtly,  and,  pointini;  to  a  newl\-  pi'eleil  mapk-,  saitl : 

"i'resh  si^n;  moose  peel  'em  this  mornin." 

And  then  commenced  one  of  those  wonderful  exhibitions  of  skill 
on  the  part  of  the  Indians,  which  is  ever  a  matter  of  surprise  and 
admiration  to  the  white  hunter:  tliis  sure  and  confident  trackins^  of 
an  unsi.'en  animal,  throuoh  pathless  forests,  swamps  anil  i)o_ifs,  now 
stoppint;  to  examine  a  broken  twi<^  or  a  half  ol)literated  foot-print  in 
the  yieldini,''  moss,  or  to  note  somi'thin^'  utterly  beyond  the  ken  of 
a  white'  man,  such  as  the-  disturbance  of  the  water  in  some  blackish 
pool,  or  the  dis|)lacement  of  objects  which  would  escape  the  observa- 
tion of  any  one  but  an  Indian. 

After  trampint^r  on  in  silence  for  nearly  an  hour.  1  ventured  to  ask 
•Sebatis  how  much  start  the  moose  had. 

"Moose  little  more 'n  hour  ahead,  walking- |)rett)'  fast ;  ma\-  be 
lay  down  by-em-b\-,  then  we  find  'im." 

The  countr\-  throut^h  which  we  were  |)assin,!L;'  was  covered  with  an 
unbroken  forest  of  deciduous  trees,  amoni:;'  which  the  maple  predom- 
inated. The  i)risk  ( )ctober  air  was  just  tempered  enouj^h  to  rentier 
walking'  enjoyablr,  and  the  liazy  sun  of  a  late  Indian  summer  li<rhti'd 
up  the  forest  with  a  peculiar,  dreamy,  qolilen  glow. 

.\s  we  penetrated  deeper  into  the  forest,  the  trees  took  on  larger 
forms,  and  here  and  there  s^'iant  ])ines  in  groups  of  two  and  three 
darkiMied  our  waw 

"  You  keep  'im  same  course  ;  Swarsin  an'  me  ^o  hunt  fresh  sit;n 
somewhere,"  said  .Sebatis,  rousing;'  me  out  of  a  reverie,  anil  stalkinjj^ 
off  in  jrhostly  sili-nce,  .Swarsin  following'  him  like  his  shadow,  and  as 
noisele.s.s. 

As  ilirected,  I  kept  m\-  course  and  tramped  onward,  the  forest 
increasiuj::;'  in  density  and  nloom  as  I  advanced.  I  had  probably 
traveled  a  mile  or  more,  when  I  approached  a  dark  t^roup  of  pines, 
in  the  center  of  which  rose  somethin_<,f  .^''''v  'I'ld  weather-stained, 
havinjr  the  appearance  of  an  abandoned  habitation.    .\s  I  stood  lookinj.^ 


Moosc-Ihintiiig. 


TIM      UAKKKMNi;    I'lNKs. 


171 


Oil  in  surprise,  1  inaile  it  out  to  l)c  llic  old  aiul  luns,f-ilescrte<i  works 
ol  sonu;  lunii)crcrs,  or,  niayhap,  a  block-house  of  tin,'  oklen  time. 
'1  he;  walls,  huilt  of  huof  Ions,  luul  originally  risen  to  a  heiirht  of  two 
storic;s,  hut  the  roof  hail  been  crusiieil  in  by  a  tree  which  had  fallen 
across  it,  and  many  of  the  loj^s  had  dropped  out  of  |)lace.  Out  of 
tin;  mitldle,  several  trood-sized  trees  wiTe  i^rrowiiiL^r,  provinjr  that  it 
was  a  structure;  of  some  anticjuity.  All  the  surroundinirs  were  moss- 
grown,  and  a  peculiar  ora\-  light  pervaded  the  place. — an  air  of  un- 


rli 


\        tl 


\% 


•m\ 


n   Mm 

t   'I 


^iH  ■    > 


172 


Moose- Hunting. 


substantiality  which  produced  a  curious,  bewildering  effect.  In  fact, 
the  whole  affair  had  such  an  uncanny  look,  that  I  should  not  have 
been  surprised  to  detect  the  sinister  face  of  "Le  Renard  Subtil  "  peer- 
ing at  me  from  behind  a  cover;  antl  as  I  turned  to  resume  my  way, 
I  had  quite  made  up  my  mind  to  encounter  the  grim  visage  of  "  Le 
Gros  Serpent,"  and  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  my  trusty  Sebatis 
watching  me  intently. 


THE    OLD    BLOCK-HOUSE. 

"What  you  call'im?" 

"  I  think  that  it  is  a  deserted  lumberers'  camp,  or  perhaps  an  old 
block-house." 

"You  watch  'im  little  while,  then  all  gone,  can't  see  not'in'  't  all; 
plenty  ghosts  here  ;  best  come  away." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  it  before  ?  " 

"  No,  never  see  'im  't  all,  only  just  now  ;  bad  luck  top  here  ;  ghosts 
come  by-em-by." 

Yielding  to  his  importunities,  we  walked  away.  Sebatis,  in  com- 
mon with  all  of  his  race,  was  very  superstitious,   and  all  attempts 


to 

ava 
a  c 
discB 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


173 


to  convince  him  of  the  folly  of  entertaininjr  such  thoughts  were  un- 
availing. He  still  held  that  it  had  no  existence  in  fact,  and  was  merely 
a  device  of  the  evil  one.  It  really  seemed  as  if  he  wished  to  avoid 
discussion,  so  I  let  the  subject  drop. 

We  were  now  rejoined  by  Swarsin.  who  had  followed  the  moose 
track  to  the  edge  of  a  swamp. 

When  .sojourning  in  the  woods,  you  have  only  to  express  a  wish 
for  a  nice  cool  spring,  and  your  Jidits  Achates,  if  he  be  an  Indian, 
seldom  fails  to  find  one.  In  the  present  instance  there  was  one  at 
hand,  as  usual.  We  halted  long  enough  to  lunch  and  to  smoke  a 
pipe,  and  then  were  off  again  on  the  trail  of  the  moose. 

We  now  changed  our  tactics.  Sebatis,  having  appointed  a  ren- 
dezvous at  the  outlet  of  a  small  lake,  went  off  alone,  while  Swarsin 
and  I  tramped  over  to  the  swamp  to  try  our  luck  there.  Deftly  pick- 
ing up  the  sign,  Swarsin  led  me  through  the  treacherous  bog,  where 
1  sometimes  broke  in  to  my  knees,  and  considered  myself  lucky  even 
in  getting  off  so  fortunately  as  that.  After  half  an  hour  of  this,  1  was 
overjoyed  to  find  that  the  moose  had  taken  to  the  forest  again.  How- 
ever, my  joy  was  short-lived,  for  soon  we  were  again  on  descending 
ground  interspersed  with  swamps  and  bogs, — a  most  detestable 
country  to  travel  in,  but  fortunately,  at  this  time  of  year,  clear  of  those 
torments,  black-flies  and  mosquitoes. 

"  Two  moose  track  here,"  said  Swarsin.     "  VVHiat  best  do  now  ?  " 

'•  Keep  on  till  we  meet  Sebatis." 

"  I  see  'im  Sebatis  track  little  ways  back.  One  moose  turn  back ; 
Sebatis  follow  that  one." 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  had  better  keep  on  after  the  other  moose." 

"  No  ;   Sebatis  break  branches  he  want  us  follow  same  way." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  broke  the  branches?  Perhaps  the  moo.se 
was  browsing  on  them. ' 

"  I  can  tell  pretty  quick.  Sebatis  break  'im  ;  always  moose  bite 
'im." 

Submitting  to  his  superior  wood-craft,  I  told  him  to  lead  the  wa^-. 

This  time  the  moose  led  us  over  bowlder-strewn  hills,  with  here 
and  there  a  windfall  thrown  in.  Now,  in  a  country  like  this,  the 
moose  has  much  the  advantage  of  the  hunter,  his  long  legs  enabling 
him  to  clear  obstacles  which  cause  the  hunters  to  pause  now  and  then 
to  regain  their  wind. 


f 


£  -yi 


11 

ir 


'74 


Moose  - 1 1  lint i  11^. 


t 


i 

i  I 


\  iill 


1     I 


Wf  wiTc  just  clainlxTinj^  tivcr  a  U-dj^i:  of  rocks  on  the  Iiill-siilc 
when  Swarsin  said  : 

"  Hcst  ^fct  ),fiin  rrady  ;   inoost,-  only  little  \va\  s  'ln-ail  now  !  " 

'Ww.  worils  win;  hardly  spoken,  when  the  hoomini^  report  of 
Sehatis's  sniooth-ljorc  echoed  throuijh  the  wooils,  ami  the  hhie 
smoke  from  the  disehariji',  lloatini^  up  through  the  trees,  pointed 
our  way. 

Sehatis  diil  not  seem  elated  with  his  success.  ihoujL^h  'he  animal 
he  hail  killed  was  a  full-^rown  cow-moose. 

"  Lost  l)i}.j  moose  a!L;ain,"  he  said.  "  I  follow  this  one,  think  hij; 
moose  all  time." 

"  How  dill  you  j^et  mistaken  ?" 

"1  ilon't  j^et  staken  t  all, —  hnd  plenty  si^n  two  moose,  —  follow 
track  bij^jres'  one, —  l)y-em-i)y  lost  track  —  don't  see  not'in." 

"Where  did  you  lose  the  track?" 

"  jus'  little  ways  this  side  big  barren,  small  lake  handy,  1  think 
go  on  water  —  hiile  somewhere,  ^'ou  see,  always  moose  liki;  water 
pretty  well ;  in  summe-r  time,  when  flies  bad,  moose  s^et  right  under 
water  jus'  like  porp'us,  jus'  leave  nose  out,  then  nobody  can't  see 
'im  't  all." 

"  How  did  you  happen  on  the  track  of  the  cow-moose  ?" 

"  Well,  you  set!,  when  I  los'  sign  bull-moose,  I  go  hunt  im  some- 
where, then  I  find  sign  cow-moose." 

"  Do  you  think  the  big  bull  was  in  company  with  the  cow-moose? 
Isn't  the  season  almost  too  late  ? " 

"  No,  not  too  late  yet  I  think  jus'  what  you  think, —  may  be 
bull  come  again  by-em-by,  then  good  chance  call  'im  to-night." 

"What  gi^n'  to  do  with  moose,  Sebatis  ? "  said  .Swarsin. 

"Butcher  'im,  then  put  'im  in  camp, —  camp  handy,  bout  half 
mile." 

The  Indians,  with  a  dexterity  acquired  by  long  practice,  skinned 
the  moose,  cut  up  the  carcass,  and  packed  it  into  camp. 

"  Now, "  said  Sebatis.  "  I  go  hunt  chance  call  bull-moose-  to-night; 
Swarsin.  he  stay  camp  an'  get  wooil  an'  make  fire,  In-em-b)-  we  have 
pretty  good  supper." 

Sebatis  was  not  long  absent;  on  his  return,  he  sat  down  in  a  taci- 
turn mood  to  the  supper  which  Swarsin  had  cooked. 

Much  as  I   have  been  in  the  society  of  Indians,  I   have  never  got 


;    'J: 


ir 


Moose- /III  II  tuif^. 


75 


accust()inc!il  to  their  jihriipt  way  ol  spcakinj;  ;  the  tone  is  ncitlicr  liarsh 
nor  h)ucl,  l)iit  the  uttcraiuc  is  so  curl  ami  stMitrntious,  tlial  oiu.'  is 
aiua\s  startk'd  and  taken  unawares,  and  lliis  is  more  especialiv  tlie 
case  when  on  tiie  trail.  .\n)und  tin;  camp  lire,  their  linely  modulated 
voices  are  very  musical  and  capable  of  wontlertiil  expression.  As  we 
lay  off,  enjoyintr  om*  pipes  after  supper,  I  asked  Si-hatis  to  tell  me 
what  he  knew  of  the  hull-moose. 

"  Well,"  In;  said,  "  1  tell  you  all  'hout  it.  You  see,  more  'n  two 
years  ajj^o,  me  an'  Lola  hunt  moose  these  mount'ins.  One  day  \\v. 
fmd  sijrii  v{;ry  lars^c  moose;  hunt  'im  all  day,  moose  travel  so  fast  we 
can't  come  up  with  him  't  all;  hy-em-hy  nis^hl  come,  then  tamp  somi-- 
where ;  ne\'  ilay  we  follow  track  till  'bout  sundown,  then  I  fmd  sij^n 
close  on  brook,  then  si>,ni  lost,  can't  fmd  'im  anywhere,  just  same  I 
lost  'im  to-day.  Then  Lola  an'  me  walk  in  brook,  try  fmd  where 
moose  take  lantl  aL(ain  Well,  Lola,  he  follow  brook  up-stream.  I 
j4()  ilown,  don't  fnul  sis^n  anywhere;  l)y-em-l)\  come  on  lake,  then  I 
sc^e  moosi'  swimmin'  'most  cross  lake,  only  .see  little;  piece  horn  stickin' 
u|),  swim  so  lU-ep,  you  sei-,  try  hide  ;  then  I  _s,m)  'round  lake,  creep  jus' 
like  wiKlcat,  ilon'l  make  no  noise  't  all,  try  cut  'im  off,  you  sc-e.  Well, 
by-em-by  i^et  pretty  tireil  creepin',  then  lift  up  my  head  look  some- 
wheri',  an'  1)\-  tundcM's !  I  see  moose  layin'  down  handy  ;  then  I  say  I 
got  old  bull-moose  this  time,  jus'  when  I  put  on  cap  my  gun  I  hear 
moose  jump,  then  I  Hre ;  well,  s'pose  you  don't  'lieve  me,  when  I  come 
on  place,  no  moose  there,  tiien  scared  pretty  bad  ;  sarlin  I  think  mus' 
be  devil.  Well,  you  see.  I  don't  like  j^ive  'im  up  that  way,  so  I  load 
jjun  an'  j^o  hunt  'im  sio;n  aj^ain  somewhere.  Hy-cm-by  1  fmd  sii^n 
aijain  jus'  on  other  sid(!  big  windfall ;  well,  I  stan'  there  lookin'  roun', 
an'  by  tunders  !  I  hear  a  gun  fire,  an'  then  I  see  Lola  stan'  there 
'longside  young  t'ree-year-old  bull-moose.  I  ask  Lola  w'here  he 
start  that  moose.  Well,  you  see,  when  I  leave  Lola  on  brook  he  go 
up-stream,  then  by-em-by  see  moose  sign,  then  he  go  hunt  'im,  you 
see,  an'  kill  'im  jus'  when  I  meet  'im.  liy  tunder!  that's  very 
crur'us;  I  can't  'stand  it  't  all.  Then  Lola  an'  me  look  everywhere, 
don't  find  no  sign  that  big  bull-moose ;  so  we  have  give  'im  up 
an'  go  home.  By  tunders  !  I  never  know  anythin'  so  crur'us  all 
my  life." 

"  Don't  you  suppo.se  that  you  got  confused  in  some  way,  and  that 
the  bull-moose  you  saw  in  the  lake  did  not  take  ground  again,  and 


I'  6 


;Vl] 


iii'i 


176 


Moose  -  H II  It  a II {T. 


tf 


I 


fooled  yrjii,  aii<l  llial  llii'  yoim^  l)iiil  sliol  Ijy  Lola  was  llic  one  lliat 
yon  saw  and  IipmI  at  1  " 

"  Sarlin  I  don't  j^cL  'fused  't  all,  that  not  sani<;  one  I  icll  yon  win; 
yon  sec,  I  don't  n)ak<:  no  slake,  'cause  I  see  that  hijr  moose  l;i\in' 
down  jiis'  plain  I  see  you  now:  sides  I  s(;e  horns,  bi^^j^es'  horns  i  ev(  r 
see  ,ill  ni)'  lili-." 

•'  I  ;;iiess  S<|,,iiis  |)ic|.ty  tir<d  thai  lime,  fall  'sleeji,  then  dreamin'. 
you  see,  don'l  sei    no  moose   i  all, "said  Swarsin. 

"  I  )oiri  mind  what  thai  Swarsin  say,  he  don'l  know  nrithin',  no 
moi<-    n  woodchuck  ;   wiial  i  tell   vou  all  true,  evei\  word." 


UVII,"  s.nd    I,     •Sei.at 
ll 


IS,   ll    the    1)1:.'    m><ose   we  llimted    Id  (|,i\'  p 


as  you  sii|)i)osi',  llie  sami'  one  that  you  liav  jiisl  heeii  teluiiv  alioiil, 
and  we  ;ire  link)'  in  calliiij^  to  ni^ht,  and  mana^n-  to  ha;;  him,  I 
su|)|)OM'  your  mind  will  he  at  rest?" 

"Sarlin.  vm  ( .in'i  |)iil 'im  ihal  moose  in  ha;.',  too  hi;;;    hut    spose 
kill    iiii.    tii'ii    I    know   taint   de\il  't    .ill,  onl\'   mighty   ( unniu'  ole 


W( 


■  ull  inoDsc,  that  s  al 


Sihali  ,    pn-lly    i^ood    h.ind    jell    slor\,"  sa 


id    S 


waisin. 


S' 


)Ose 


ll'-  tell  all    hoiil  hear  hum,  when  he  vei  his  arm  'most  ton-  ol!. 


S.IKI 


Sartiii    th.il's    I 
S.-hat 


ru'-.    ;;i-l    my    .inn    'most   lore    oil    sun-   <  iiou;di,  ' 
ll   sleeve,   :ind    'xhihiled   se\erai 


Is,  .IS   hi-    roiji-d    III)    Ills  CO 


h'i<rhllul  s<  .us  on  his  hti  arm. 


II 


ow   did  that  haojjiii,  Sehali 


I 


m({im 


Wrll, 


\iiu   s(-<-,    h 


i|)|)in    ;,^()0(i   mail)'    years   ai^n,  used    t( 


)     he    'i|(l 


limes,    Injiiis    (:nn|)in'   oiil   all    winter,     hunt,    trap,   (veiythin'.      '  )iie 
wiiili-r   two  ().•   three  (.imps  on    .\lc|)on;(;d    i,;iki-,  so    \oii    sei-    I    st.iii 


one  mornm    look  at  my  tr.ip' 


W.ll. 


jus'  walkin'    Ion;;,  don't    liav< 


no   ''IIP.  no   knili-,  not  in    hiil   '-m;iil   liltli-   kind   ol   h.il(  hit,  liiat      .ij 


>ld 


hy-i-Mi  lf\  1  see  preily  oi;;  old  she  l.i-.ir  waikin  on  snow,  comin  ri;_;lit 
u|)  lo  mi-  ;  I  li'lle  scand  first,  you  see  don'  ha\'-  no  ,i(un,  no  knife, 
noL'in'  hut  ihal  small  littk-  kind  of  hati  hit,  so 
rh;incc   kill    hear.     W'-ll,  iioi   much   lime   thinkiii',  I 


link    pnltN    poo; 


or   Dili    hi'.ir  (  ome 


valkin'  loii]^  pn-lty  <|ui(  k,  when  lu-  ;;ol  'most  up  when-  I  si;iuin'theii 
;el  '  ii;hl  up  on  his  hill'  le^^s  jus'  like  man  an'  look  al  ni'-,  then  I  don'i 


nio 


\<-  'l  all,  ins'  look  al  he.ir,  that's  ;ill  ;    h\   em  hv  thai  hear  ''et 


iiown 


aL;.iin   an    '^n    w.iy  w.ilkm   vir\  slow,  then    you    ,ee,  I    think   Ixst    try 


kill 


nil,    so    1    chase   m  ;   lh':n    yon   sie   thai   hi-.ir  slop  ai.;aiii   an    |ir 


j^'illin    up  on  hi'   hin'  le;^fs,  when  I  slriki-  'm  .all  my  ini;;hl  ri;dil  on  hi' 


w«»«<M««w:»4i* 


Moosc-Uitiiliii^. 


'77 


Id.  1  I    KMN'.      I  itOM      i  II.       Ill    •.  r 


h<:;i(l  with  I'lal  small  liltli:  kiii'l  of  li;iU:li«;t,  s'posc  liil  'iiii  fair,  sarliii 
kill 'ill! ;  hut,  you  sec,  Ixar  very  (|iii(k.  Whdi  In- sec  me  ti)' strike  im, 
he  jus'  ilf)(l;(<t  litlle  hit,  an'  on'y  liaiidl'-  strik'  'iin  an'  hrokc  short  oil. 
aixl  that  small  littlr  kitid  of  hatch'i  i.ijl  oil  on  snow  sonnu  hi-r'-. 
I'hcn    i    Jii-l    |>rclly   had,    )()U    sc.-,    h.-iir    ^fitin'   (  ross   an'    lak'-    ri^;hl 


hold 


mv  arm  an    hite  savai;'-;  then,  yon  sic,  I  t;(l  prdly  <  ross,  li 


I  Uik<-  hear  ri;,dil  on  his  t'roat  hot);  ni\'  han's  an'  choke  'im  had:  llxn, 
you  s<'e,  he  don'l  like  ii  i  all,  hcLjin  In  (  rs,  an'  I  see  tears  (nui'-  on 
his  I'a.cc',  then  I  choke  'im  all  m)  n)ij.du,  yon  see;  th'ii  he  hite  so 
i    'most    (Iroj).     Well,   I    il.iu't    know  what    ,i.;oin'  ha|)|)e,i  ne\i, 


savaijc 


wiien    lie    stop    l)itm     so 


hiti 


hard,    then    I    stop   (  jioke     nn     ins    a     htll 


\on    see;    t 


hell    h\-  em  h\'    he    let     '^u    n)\     aiin    allo^et'er,    tiien    I    hi 


his    t'loat,    an'    he   drop    ri!..;ht    on    snow    a^jani    an     wal 


on    sKr, 


low     nolher    wa\,     \ou    se 


then     I     walk    otf 

m\'  arm    oain    preiiy  had,   hluod  soaked    al 

then    i    ; 


•\\' 


)\     tiinder' 


>n  my  eoal   e\ery 


Wlieri- 


on    eain|'    preity   <|ni' 


W 


\on 


nol;od\    'li:    that 


(  amp   on  \    m\se 
|Mii    on    ha's.am, 

vet     th.al     he.ir. 


•all     lone,    sii 


\. 


Iin    ni\     ai'm    icsl    ssa\ 
ktiil' 


(  an,    an 


\     murnm,    I    t.d\e    in\    ^nn    an     ktnle,    ,in     start 


IM)     i|e|). 


w 


Ivmn   h\,   I   sirn-,e    ,i:.oi    an    loljuu     honi    mile,   tlnn 
-ml  sei     ii(i:'in'  t  .ill.  then  li'jhi  mati  h 


)en  I    loiil,   ni   I  < 


an'   see   iwo   little  ciilis,   verv  sm.nl.    |ns    h,-.e  small    hide  do'o    then 


think   hi  st  '/o  hunt  oM  he;ir,  ai 


1     I  ome   li.dk    ;m     l.'el   (  III) 


W 


inti 


|.:l 


t»^    I    I 


FW 


If,    ■> 


178 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


If 


ways  off  I  fin'  sign  old  bear  gone  off  somewhere's  again,  so  I  follow 
pretty  quick,  an'  by-em-by  see  old  bear  walkin'  on  snow,  an'  I  go  up 
pretty  close,  an'  jus'  when  he  rise  up  again  on  hind  legs  I  fire,  kill 
'ini  dead  first  shot,  then  my  arm  feel  'most  well  again,  then  I  go  get 
cubs  ;  well,  you  see,  when  I  fin'  den  again  cubs  all  gone,  on'y  some 
little  bits  fur  an'  blood,  that's  all." 

"What  killed  the  cubs?"  I  incjuired. 

"  Well,  you  see,  nobody  don't  kill  'em  't  all,  po-kunipk  been  there 
eat  'em  all  up." 

"Who  on  earth  is  po-kiiiiipk f" 

"  l\i-lcumpk  /  that's  l)lack  cat,  you  know  ;  some  people  call  'em 
fishers." 

"  That's  a  very  good  story,  Sebatis,"  1  remarked,  by  way  of 
compliment. 

"  Xo,  that's  not  good  stor\  't  all,  that's  true.  Aly  arm  don't  get 
well  again  most  six  months." 

The  moon  was  now  visibh',  and  I  asked  Sebatis  when  he  would 
tr\-  lo  call  the  moose. 

"  Prett)-  soon,"  he  replied.  "  I  go  somewhere  now  try  find  birch 
bark  make  moose-call;  you  an'  Swarsin  take  guns,  an'  '^o  down  on 
barren  handy  on  lake,  by-ein-by  I  come." 

Obeying  the  directions  of  Sebatis,  Swarsin  antl  I  tramped  down 
to  the  ('dge  of  the  barren  and  took  up  a  position  in  the  dense  shadow 
of  some  tall  ferns.  There  was  not  a  breath  of  air  stirring,  a'.id  the 
moon  was  partiall\-  obscured  by  watery-looking  clouds  that  threatened 
ere  long  to  treat  us  to  a  wetting.  .\s  we  sat  waiting  for  Sebatis,  the 
silence  was  oppressive ;  ])rese-itl\-,  i\\it  monotony  was  relieved  by 
the  occasional  hooting  of  an  owl,  that  after  a  time  became  almost 
continuous. 

"That  owl  keeps  u|)  an  awful  row,"  1  said  to  Swarsin. 

"That  aint  owl  't  all,  that  Sebatis;  may  be  he  wants  us  come 
somewhere." 

"  Wont  we  make  too  much  noise,  groping  our  way  in  thv  tiark  ? " 

"  I  list!  that's  cow-mocjse,"  he  saitl,  as  a  wailing  cr\-  floated  through 
the  air. 

1  shrewdh'  suspected  the  cow-;:'()()sc  to  be  none  other  tlian  our 
friend  .Sebatis,  with  his  trumpet  of  birch  bark,  and  in  a  few  moments 
was  con\inced  of  thi'  fact,  for  from  far  ;. .  .ly  in  the  tlistance  canu;  the 
answerins/  call  of  a  bull-moose. 


Moose  -  Hull  ting. 


"Now,  th'jn,"  said  Swansin,  "  uc  tr\-  find  Scbatis;  you  follow  me 
crccpin',  then  we  don't  make  no  noise  't  all." 

Just  then  the  hoot  )f  the  owl  was  repeated,  and  Swarsin  crept  on 
with  hastened  speed.  I  followed  as  best  I  could,  anil  was  s^etling 
pretty  tired  of  my  bar^'■ain,  when  the  call  of  a  bullnioose  —  this  time 
much  nearer — echoed  through  the  woods. 

"  Hulbmoose  come  l)y-emd)y,"  said  .Swarsin  ;  "we  best  keep  still 
now." 

"  How  about  Sebatis  ?      Isn't  he  waiting;'  for  us  ?  " 

•'  Sebatis  here,"  replied  that  worthy,  who  hatl  joim.'d  us  so  silently 
as  to  escajje  my  notice. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  the  moose.' i^ "  I  whisfx.-red  to  Sebatis. 
"  Isn't  he  coming  ver\-  slowl\-  ?" 

"  Well,  1  tell  you,"  said  -Sebatis;  "  )ou  see,  that  moose  either  devil, 
c'lsc  he  know  so  much  we  can't  cheat  'im  easy.  When  I  first  try  'im 
he  an.swer  kind  of  frightened,  don't  smash  'round  't  all  an'  make  big 
noise.  Mos'  bull-moose,  when  he  hear  cow,  get  kind  of  jealous,  you 
see,  an'  begin  roar  an'  smash  'roun',  an'  knock  his  horns  on  trees,  try 
make  big  noise,  \()u  see,  an'  scare  off  some  other  bull  nia\-  be.  Now 
I  try  'im  again.  " 

And  once  more  the  marvelous  imitation  of  tin;  crj-  of  the  cow- 
moose,  in  plaintivt:  and  gentle;  cadence,  floated  dirough  the  air. 

I  should  have  been  e.\tremel\  disappointed  if  this  last  masterly 
performance  of  Sel)atis's  had  failed  to  elicit  a  response.  I"'or  a  time, 
I  thought  that  it  had  failed,  when  I  was  startled  by  hearing  the  angr\- 
challenge  of  a  bull,  close  at  hand. 

"  Sartin  I  cheat  bull-moose  that  time,"  chuckled  Sebatis  !  "He's 
comin'  now,  best  have  gun  ready." 

For  a  few  moments  we  listencxl  intenth',  with  oiu'  ears  on  the 
alert  for  the  slightest  sound. 

"  .Sebatis,"  1  whispered,  "  I'm  afraid  he  wont  come.  ' 

"You  jus'  keej)  ([uiet  little  while,  \()U  see  I  know  all  'bout  it: 
that  vc;ry  wise  ole  bull,  he  been  fooled  good  many  limes,  you  see; 
that  make 'im  pretty  scan-y  —  by-em  by — s'pose  all  (|ui(;t.  I  try 'im 
'gain." 

"  lias  he  gone-  back  from  ii-.  since  you  called  the  last  dme?" 

"  Xo,  he's  comin'  all  time;  but,  sou  see,  he  tr\-  'roun'  every  way 
first,  try  an'  get  our  wind:  s'|)ose  he  don't  gel  on  lee  side,  we:  have 
'im  sure." 


11 


I  '; 


^1    "'\\'\ 


' 


:\\ 


'■.n. 


,  ,  u\ 


1  i'^ 


1 80 


Moosc-Hitntiug. 


If 


i 


How  is  it  \vc  tlon't  hear  him  ? 


"  Always  inooscj  when  scared  come  slow;  very  careful,  you  see, 
don't  step  on  branches,  nfjt'in',  make  no  noise  't  all,  and  keejj  listenin' 
all  time,  you  see ;   that  take  'ini  lon<^  time  j^ettin'  here." 

Aj»-ain  the  counterfeit  presentment,  this  time  louder  than  before, 
echoi;d  throujrh  the  forest.  As  it  died  away,  our  ears  detected  a 
slij^dit  crash  in  the  woods,  instantly  follcjwed  by  a  soft  note  from  a 
bull-moose,  to  which  .Sebatis  replied,  then  all  was  silent. 

"  Look,"  said  .Sebatis  in  a  low  tone,  "bull-moose  comin',  you  see 
l)i,<r  black  somethin'  on  barren  this  side  lake,  that's  him.  Now,  when 
you  se-e  'im  clear,  make  t^ood  shot." 

.AlthouLjh  I  strained  my  eyes  in  tryintr  to  discern  the  moose,  it 
was  some  time  before  1  could  make  him  out,  and  then  not  in  a  way 
to  insure  a  satisfactory  shot.  Reachint^  out  my  hand,  I  touched 
Sebatis,  who  took  the  hint,  and  in  a  low,  m(Klulated  tone  ajrain  j^ave 
the  call. 

This  time,  without  replyin^r,  thi;  bull-moose  mov(.'d  cautiously  for- 
ward, evidently  very  uneasy  an<l  an.xious.  His  L^reat  body  was  now 
jjlainly  visible;  in  full  relief  aj^ainst  the  shimmerintij  lake,  and  as  it 
was  not  likely  that  I  would  '^vx  a  better  chance  F  finjtl.  There  was 
a  crash,  and  as  the  smoke  ck^ared  awaj-  I  saw  the  moose  struL^j^linj^ 
to  his  feet  attain,  when  Sebatis  i)ut  in  a  well  directed  shot  anil  ended 
the  scene. 

"  By  tunders!"  exclaimed  Sebatis,  as  lie  t^azed  on  the  hui^e  pro- 
portions of  the  fallen  moose,  "that  l>iK.l.^'-'^'  moose  I  ever  see  all  my 
life;  no  wonder  I  t'ink  devil,  so  cunnin',  you  s(;e.  One  time;  to-nii^ht 
I  t'ink  not  much  chance;  kill  that  moose." 

"  You  still  think  that  it  is  the  moose;  that  fooled  you  so  often?" 

"  Sartin,  that  same  moose;;  I  know  'im,  yeni  see,  'cause  heirns  so 
brejad,  'most  five  fe;e;t  'cross  e)n  top." 

The  measurements  and  we:ijj^ht  of  this  noljle;  specimen  have  been 
state;el  in  another  part  e)f  this  paper,  and  the  maj^Miificent  antlers  are 
ne)w  in  the;  posse;ssi(,ii  e)f  the;  write;r. 

Charlejtte  Ccunty,  New  Brunswick,  the:  scene  of  e)ur  hunt,  was  at 
one-  lime;  a  place  much  free|ue'nte'el  by  Inelians,  and  varie)us  interc;stinj^ 
rejcs  e)f  the;ir  former  e)ccupation  e)f  the  ce)untry  have  bee;n  fre)m  time 
te)  time'  elisce)vereel.  On  the;  portai^e;  re)ael  at  St.  ("i(;orjre,  ste)ne  pipes, 
chisels,  te)mahawks,  e;tc.,  etc.,  have;  frecjuently  been  turne;d  up,  anel  a 


Moose  -  Hunting. 


i8i 


few  years  since;  an  object  of  nuicli  elhnoloj^ical  interest  was  found,  in 
the  shape  of  a  stone  in(;(hiilion  havint^^  tlic  full-sized  head  of  an  Indian 
scul])tured  upon  it.  I'his  stone  is  n<nv  in  the-  collection  of  tiie  Natural 
ilistory  Soci(!ty  at  St.  John,  New  linmswick.  On  one  of  the  n;ount 
ains  on  Lake  f  topia  th(;re  was  at  one  time  a  curious  structure 
rcsemhlin<,r  an  altar,  and  huilt  with  Jarj^e  slabs  of  granite.  Recentlv 
some  vandals,  in  orchir  to  L^ratily  an  idiotic  whim,  tumbled  the  lar^^^est 
block  down  the  hill-side  and  into  the  lake. 

The  Ji^lory  of  tlu;  noble  forest  where  we  hunt(;d  the  devil-moose- 
has  departed,  and  all  is  now  blackened  stumps  ami  ashes  where  once 
the  ^reen  canopy  seemed  boundless.  SometinK^s  a  heavy  ,L(ale,  such 
as  the;  .Saxby  in  i(S69,  prostrates  the  trees,  or  the  insatiable  lumber- 
men cut  them  ilown,  and  them  in  summer-time,  when  everythinjf  is  as 
dry  as  tinder,  a  party  of  hunters  or  ant^lcrs  are  careless  of  their  fire, 
and  soon  the  country  is  in  a  blaze  for  mil's.  This  ilrivt.-s  the;  nuxjse 
an<l  caribou  away  from  their  ancient  haunts,  and  the;)-  seiilom  return. 
With  a  little  pr(;caution,  all  of  this  mij^ht  be  prevented,  and  the 
trouble  of  n^stockint^  our  rivers  with  salmon,  tryinj.^  to  re-introduce 
the  game,  and  all  the  n;^t  of  it,  mi^ht  be  avoid(;d. 

Nowadays,  when  1  take;  a  holidaj-  with  .Sebatis,  we  occasion.ally 
make  a  lont^  hunt  in  search  of  moose  or  caribou,  but  in  (general  have 
to  content  ourselves  with  a  deer,  the  ruff(;d  j^rouse,  ducks,  and  har(;s 
of  the  c(nmtry,  and  the;  (^^lorious  brook  trout  which  fdl  thi;  innumer- 
able lakes  in  Charlotte  County, — sinLjle  specimens  often  reaching;  iIk; 
weight  of  seven  pounds. 


\y  ''I 


ll  il 


J-'; 


|!  '    I      I     1 


1  2.\ 


'S   '  ' 


MO()si:-iir\'n.\(;  i\  caxada* 


I 


l!v 


in-;    !•: a  r i ,   or    i > r  n  k  a \'  i-; n . 


11 


S 


MOOSl'MIIWriXC,  it"  il  lius  111.  otli  r  ;i(1v;uU<'i.l((;s,  at  least 
lca<h.  a  man  to  solitude  aiid  the  woods,  and  lift;  in  tlie 
woods  lends  to  (hnclop  many  exc(;llent  <|ualiti(;s  which  an: 
not  iinariahly  produced  l)y  what  w(!  are  i)l(;:>.sed  to  call  our  civil- 
ization, it  makes  a  man  patient  and  ahh;  to  ht.-ar  constant  disap- 
pointments; it  enahles  him  lo  endure  hardships  with  indifference, 
and  il  produc(,'s  a  fe(;linj,^  of  sell  reliance  which  is  both  jile-asant  and 
st;r\iceal)le.  'True  luxur\-,  to  m)  mind,  is  only  to  he  found  in  such  a 
life.  \'o  man  who  has  not  e.Kperienced  il  knows  what  an  e.xhilarat- 
int;'  ti'(.'lin;4  ;t  is  to  he  entirely  in(le'|)indent  of  weather,  compiiraiively 
indifferent  to  iiimi^er,  thirst,  cold,  and  heal,  and  lo  feel  himself  capa- 
1)1(;,  not  onl}-  of  sup|)ortint;",  Iml  of  enjoying  life  thorcui,dil\-,  and  that 
hy  the  m(;re  exercise  of  his  own  fac:ulties.  Happiness  consists  in 
having  lew  wants  and  heini^-  able  to  satisfy  them,  and  there  is  more 
real  coniio'M  li-  he  found  in  a  hircli-hark  camj)  than  in  the  most 
luxuriously  furnisJKid  .md  carefull\-  aiipoinled  dwellinL;-. 

Such  a   home  I  lUive  often   hel|)ed    lo   make.      Il   does   not  helouL;' 
to  ;my  n  -o^ni/cjd  order  of   archilecture.  allhouL^h  it    ma\   lairl\  claim 
mcient  orit^nn.       lo   enci   il   re(|uin-s  it >  ^ real   exercise   of  skill, 


an 

and 


calls  for  no  irainiii''"  in  art  schools.      1 


Wll 


.\  hirch-hark  camp  is  made  in  irany  wa\s.  T 
h'.iild  il  ii^  the  form  (,i  a  sijuare,  \aryini^  in  siz( 
number  of  inhabitants  that  you   pro|)ose  lo  .iccouimodati 


irielly  descnlx'  it. 
rile   best   plan  is   lo 


I  la\  in.^ 
s<;lected  a  suitable  |e\cl   spot  ;iiiil   cleafid    awav  the  shrubs  and    rub- 

*  l<(,'|iiinti.'il.  Ii\  |iiriiii>^i(),.,  truiii    ■the  NiiuMl-jiuIi  ('i.n'.uiy." 


RJHMMBBhntai 


Moose  - 1 1  It  II  fill  a  ill  Cdiimhi. 


183 


l)isli,  yoii  proceed  to  iiuikc  tour  low  walls  composed  of  two  or  tlinr(r 
small  siiiiaolc-si/.cil  pine  1ol;s  laid  one  on  the-  ollur,  and  on  these 
little  low  walls  so  constriictiid  )()ii  raise  tlie-  frame-work  of  tin;  cam]). 
This  consists  of  lii^du  thin  pol(!s,  the  lower  entls  Jjt-ini;  stuck  into  the 
up|)er  surlace  of  the  |)in(;  trees  which  form  tin;  walls,  and  the  upper 
cmls  leanint^  against  and  supporting'  each  (ither.  Ihe  next  operation 
is  to  strip  \\W'j^v  sheets  of  liark  off  the  birch  trees,  an<l  thatc  h 
these  poles  with  th(;m  to  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  top,  leaving;  a 
sufficicMit  ap(;rture  for  the  smoke  to  escapt'.  ( )ther  poles  are  then 
laid  upon  the  sheets  of  hirch  1/ark  to  ket-p  them  in  their  places.  .\ 
small  door-way  is  lelt  in  one  side,  and  a  door  is  constructed  out  of 
slabs  (jf  wood,  or  out  oi  tl'ii'  skin  ol  some  animal.  The  uppermost 
lojr  is  hewn  through  with  an  a\,  so  that  the  wall  shall  not  be  mcon 
veniently  hi,L,di  to  step  over,  and  the  hut  is  I'mished.  Such  a  camp  is 
perf(;ctly  impervious  to  wind  or  weather,  or,  rather,  can  be  made  so 
by  fiUinj^''  up  th(.-  joints  and  cracks  between  the  sheets  of  birch-bark 
and  the  interstices  between  the  pine  1oil(s  with  moss  and  tir)'  leaves. 
Y(ju  ne.xt  level  off  th(.  t^round  inside,  and  on  three  sides  ol  the  scpiare 
strew  it  thickly  with  the  small  tops  of  the  sapiii,  or  Canada  balsam 
fir,  for  a  breadth  of  about  four  feet:  then  lake  some  lou^'  pliant  ash 
saplinj^s  or  withy  rods,  and  pei^  them  down  aloni^'  the  ed^^c  of  the 
pine  tops  to  k(--ep  your  bed  oi-  car])et  in  its  place,  leaving  a  bare 
space  in  the  center  of  the  hut,  where  )i)U  make  your  fire.  Two  in' 
thre(;  nniinh  slabs  of  pine,  to  act  as  sheKcs,  must  then  be  li.xed  into 
the  wall,  a  coui)le  ol  portaL,^e-stra|is,  or  tum|jdines  stretciied  across, 
on  which  to  Ikiul;-  \our  clotlies,    ind  the  habitation  is  complete. 

I  ou^ht,  perhaps,  to  explain  what  a  "  portaL,H:-strap "  and  a 
"  porta_L,^e "  are.  .Man\  brench  and  Spanish  words  have  become 
incorporated  with  the  ICnL,dish  lan^juai^M-  in  .Xnu-rica.  Ihe  Western 
cattl(;-inan,  or  farmer,  speaks  of  his  farm  or  house  as  his  "  ranche." 
calls  the  inclosure  into  which  lie  dri\i's  his  stock  a  "corral,"  lasti'iis 
his  horse  with  a  "lariat,"  dii^s  an  "ace(|uia"  to  irriL^ate-  his  land,  ;.^<;ts 
lost  in  the  "  chai)])aral,  '  insti-ad  ol  the  bush,  and  uses  commoidy 
many  other  .Spanish  words  and  expressions.  No  hunter  or  trapjjer 
talks  of  hidinj^'  anythint;- ;  he  "caches"  it,  and  he  calls  tin  |)lace 
wli<;re  he  has  slowed  ;iwa\  a  lillle  store  ol  powder.  Hour,  or  -^ome  ol 
the  other  necessaries  of  life,  a  "cache."  The  I'Vench  word  "jirairie," 
as  (;ver\  bod\-  knows,  has  become  part  and  jjarcd  ol  tin-  l',nt;lish  lan- 


i  ' 


■\\\\\ 


\    i 


1  ii  r 


"i     .1 


;  I 


nl 


I    ' 


'    i 


184 


Moosc-I Iiintiiii:^  ii    i'aiKuhi. 


M'  f 


J    ,, 


}^fii;ij;c.  Indians  and  halt  tjrccds,  who  never  heard  l-'reneh  s|)()kc;n  in 
their  hves,  ^re('l  each  oUier  al  nieelinn  and  iiarlini^  with  the  saiula- 
lion  "  l)(i  jour"  and  'M(hen."  And  so  lh('  word  "  poriai^e  "  has  coniL' 
lo  he  ^cm-ialiv  nsed  to  denote  the  piece  ol  (h'y  land  separating  two 
rivers  or  lakes  over  which  it  is  nec(,'ssary  to  carr\'  canoes  and  l)air- 
j^a^c  when  travelini;'  through  the  couiitr\-  in  smnnier.  Sometimes  it 
is  literall)  translated  and  called  a  "carr)."  ,\notlu!r  I'ritnch  word, 
"  traverse,  '  is  rre(|iienlly  used  in  canoeini^,  to  siirnily  a  lari^M;  nnshcl- 
tered  piece  ot  water  which  it  is  necessar\  to  cross.  A  deeply  laden 
hirch-hark  canoe  will  not  stand  a  L,freat  deal  of  sea,  and  (|iiite  a  lu;avy 
.s(.'a  jfeis  n|)  very  rapidly  on  lan^c  frt.'sh- wat(;r  lak(;s,  s(i  that  a  lonif 
"traverse"  is  a  somewhal  lormidahh;  matter,  ^'oll  may  want  to 
cross  a  lake,  sa\  li\c  or  six  miles  in  width,  hut  of  such  a  si/e  that  it 
would  take  \()U  a  couple  ot  da\  s  to  coast  all  round.  I  hat  open 
stretch  ot"ti\i-  or  six  mil(;s  would  he  calli'd  a  "  traverse." 

The  munlier  and  leni^nh  ot"  the  |)orta^('S  on  an\'  canoe  route,  ;md 
the  kind  ot  trail  that  leads  over  them,  are  important  matters  to  con- 
sider in  canoe  traveling;.  A  man,  in  ,!^d\inL;  information  ahout  any 
journey,  will  enter  into  most  minute  jiarticulars  ahout  them.  I  !(■  will 
sa\-,  ■'  \'ou  Ljo  up  such-and-such  a  river,"  and  he  will  tell  \-ou  all 
ahout  it  —  where  ihifrc-  are  strong;-  rapids,  wlu;re  it  is  v(^r\-  shallow, 
where  there  are  deep  still  reaches  in  which  the  paddle  can  he  used,  and 
where  \()U  must  pole,  and  so  torth.  I  hen  he  will  tell  you  how  you 
come  to  some  violent  ra])id  or  tall  that  necessitates  a  "  portaL,^,',"  and 
explain  (;xactl\'  how  to  strike  into  the  eddy,  and  sh()v<;  \()ur  canoe 
into  the  bank  at  a  certain  place,  and  take  her  out  there,  and  how 
Ioul;  the  "  ])orta!4<"  "  ''^  •  wln'ther  then;  is  a  i^^ood  trail,  or  a  had  trail, 
or  no  trail  al  all;  and  so  on  with  every  "  porta_L,re "  on  the  route. 
C"arr\in!^'  cano(;s  and  ha^s^anc  across  the  "  portaj^c'  "  is  arduous 
work.  .\  hircli-hark  canoe  must  he  treated  delicately,  lor  it  is  a  very 
tra;..;ite  creature.  \'ou  allow  it  to  uround  very  caretuUy,  step  out 
into  the  wal<!r,  take  out  all  the  i)al('s,  Ixjxes,  pot.s,  pans,  hetddint,'', 
ritl('s,  (•*-.,  lift  u])  tlu!  canoe  hodily,  and  turn  her  upsiile  down  for  a 
few  minutes  to  drain  th('  water  out.  1  he  Indian  then  turns  her  over, 
grasps  the  middle  thwart  with  both  hands,  and  with  a  suilden  twist  of 
the  wrists  heav(;s  her  up  in  the  air,  and  deposits  her  upside  down  on 
liis  shoulders,  and  walks  off  with  his  burden.  .An  onlinary-sized  .Mic- 
Mac  or   .Melicite  canoe,   such   a.s  one  man  can  easily  carry,  weighs 


Wm 


irBiro"imrjwii'i^Q*'*'-j*ii8^"j^*^^ 


iMoosc-Iliiiitiilif  ill  (.'a Hilda. 


185 


al)()iit  scvtMity  or  (Mighty  poiimis,  and  will   lake  two  in<ii   and  ahont 
six  liundrcd  or  s(j\»mi  linndrcd  ponnds. 

The  iiiipcdii)iviita  arc  carried  in  this  niann<'r:  A  Mankil,  doiililcd 
to  a  suilalile  size,  is  laid  npon  the  i^n'onnd  ;  )(iu  lake  soin^  portaj^^c- 
stra|),  or  Imnp  line,  as  it  is  soinninics  i;all<:d,  wliicli  is  (oniposcd  ol 
.strips  ol"  wchhint;'  or  sonic  siic:h  material,  and  is  alioiil  twelve  feet 
lonj4',  a  lenf^th  ol"  ahout  two  fttet  in  the  centi'r  Ijiini;  niadi:  ot  a  piece- 
of  broad,  soft  leather;  )()n  la)'  yonr  line  on  the  hlanket  so  that  the 
leather  part  projects,  and  fold  llu;  (hI^i's  ol  th<'  hianket  over  either 
portion  ol  the  strap.  \'on  then  pik;  n|)  the  articles  to  he  carried  in 
the  center,  donhli'  the  blanket  over  them,  and  bv  liaiilinL;  upon  the 
two  parts  of  the  strap  brint,^  tlu;  blanket  toiL;(;ther  at  either  sid<',  so 
that  nolhini; can  fall  ont.  \'on  then  cut  a  skewer  of  wood,  sti(  k  it 
throm^h  tlu'  blanket  in  llu;  center,  s(;cin-(;!y  knot  the  strap  at  either 
k-\m\,  and  your  pack  is  made.  \ Ou  have  a  compact  bumlle,  with  the 
leather  portion  of  th(;  |)ortaL;c-strap  |)rojectin!^  like  a  loop,  which  is 
passed  over  the  hc^ail  and  shoulders,  and  the  pack  is  carried  on  the 
back  by  means  of  the  loop  which  passes  across  the  chest,  li  the 
pack  is  ver\'  heav\,  and  the  distance  loni(,  it  is  usual  to  maki-  an  ad- 
ditional band  out  ol  a  handkerchief  or  somelhiuL;  of  th.il  kind,  to 
attach  it  to  the  bundle,  and  jjass  it  across  the  forehead,  so  as  to  take 
some  of  the  pressure  otf  thi;  chest.  The  re^jular  weight  ol  a  Mud 
son's  liay  Com|)any's  packaj.,''*;  is  eiL,dU\'  poimds  ;  but  any  Indian  or 
halfdirced  will  carry  double  this  wei.Ljht  for  a  considerable  distance; 
without  distress.  A  tumpdine,  therefore,  lorms  an  essential  part  ol 
the  I'oyai^r/ir's  outtil  when  traveling',  and  it  comes  in  hand},  also,  in 
camp  as  a  clothes-lim;  on  which  to  hanL,^  one's  socks  and  moccasin-. 
to  dry. 

A  camp  such  as  that  I  have  att(;m|)te(l  todescribi'  is  the  best  that 
c;ui  be  built.  .An  ordinar\-  canij)  is  constructed  in  the  same  wa\,  but 
with  this  difl'erence,  that  instead  of  beini^  in  the  form  of  a  scpiare,  it 
is  in  tlu;  shape  of  a  circk;,  and  the  poles  on  which  the  bark  is  l.iid  are 
stuck  into  the  L^round  inst(;ad  of  into  low  walls,  '{"here  is  not  h.ilf  so 
much  room  in  such  a  camp  as  in  tlu-  former,  althout^di  the  amount  of 
material  employed  is  in  both  cases  the  saim-.  It  ma\-  be  objecic'd 
that  the  slee|)in!n'  arraniLjcments  cannot  Ix'  ver\'  lu.xurious  i:i  camp. 
A  j^ood  bed  is  certaini)'  an  e.\c(;llent  thint,^  but  it  i<?  \cry  hard  to  find 
a  bett(;r  bed  than  .Nature  has  jiroxided   in  the  wilderness.      It  would 


I   ' 


m 


M'i  '^! 


V   H 


't.   -i 


n  f  ^'1 


1 86 


A/oosi' -//////// j/g  ill  Canada. 


appear  as  it"  Providence  had  specially  tlesii,Mied  the  Canada  l)alsani 
fir  for  the  purpose  of  iiiakini,^  a  soft  couch  for  tired  hunters.  It  is  the 
only  one,  so  far  as  I  am  aware,  of  the  coniferous  trees  of  North 
America  in  which  the  leavt;s  or  spicuhe  lie  perf(!ctly  flat.  The  con- 
se(|uence  of  ih.il  excelU^nt  arranj^ement  is,  that  a  l)(;il  made  of  the 
short,  tender  tips  of  the  Canada  balsam,  spread  evenly  to  the  depth 
of  about  a  foot,  is  one  of  the  softest,  most  elastic,  and  most  pleasant 
couches  that  can  be  ima,<;'ineil ;  and  as  the  scent  of  the  sap  of  the 
Canada  balsam  is  absolutely  delicious,  it  is  always  sweet  and  n^fresh- 
in_<,r  —  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  many  beds  of  civilization. 

llunj^er  is  a  i^ood  sauce.  .\  man  comini^'  in  tired  and  hunjj^ry 
will  fnul  more  enjoynumt  in  a  piece  of  moose  meat  anil  a  cup  of  tea 
than  in  the  most  luxurious  of  banciuets.  Moreover,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  some  of  the  wild  meats  of  North  America  cannot  be 
excelled  in  flavor  and  delicacy;  nothing',  for  instance,  can  be  better 
than  moose  or  caribou,  mountain  sheep  or  antidope.  The  "  moufle," 
or  nose  ol  the  moose,  and  his  marrow-bones  are  daintii^s  which  would 
be  highly  appreciated  by  accomplished  epicures.  The  meat  is  i^ood, 
and  no  better  method  of  cooking;-  it  has  jet  been  discovered  than  the 
simple  one  of  roasting-  it  before  a  wootl  fire  on  a  pointed  stick.  Sim- 
plicity is  a  ^reat  source  of  comfort,  and  makes  up  for  many  luxuries; 
and  nothint^  can  be;  mort:  simple,  and  at  the;  same  time  more  com- 
fortable, than  life  in  such  a  birch-bark  camp  as  I  have  attempted  to 
describe.  In  summer-time,  and  in  the  fall,  until  the  weather  begins 
to  get  a  little  cold,  a  tent  aftbrds  all  the'  shelter  that  the  sportsman 
or  the  tourist  can  recjuire.  Hut  when  the  leaves  are  all  fallen,  when 
the  lakes  begin  to  frt;eze  up,  and  snow  covers  the  earth,  or  may  be 
looked  for  at  any  moment,  the  nights  become  too  cold  to  render 
dwelling  in  tents  any  longer  desirable.  A  tent  can  be  used  in  win- 
ter, and  I  have  dwelt  in  one  in  extreme  cold,  when  the  thermometer 
went  down  as  low  as  32°  below  zero.  It  was  rendered  habitable  by 
a  little  stove,  which  made  it  at  the  same  time  exceedingly  disagree- 
able. A  stove  sufficitMitly  small  to  be  portable  only  contained  wood 
enough  to  burn  for  an  hour  and  a  half  or  so;  consec}uently,  some 
one  had  to  sit  up  all  night  to  replenish  it.  Now,  nobody  could  keep 
awake,  and  the  result  was  that  we  had  to  pass  through  the  unpleasant 
ordeal  of  alternately  freezing  and  roasting  during  the  whole  night. 
The  stove  was  of  necessity  composed  of  very  thin  sheet-iron,  as  light- 


avaeag-"v^'"'*' 


Moosc-I hiiitiiii^  ill  ('(i/i(ti/(t. 


187 


ii(!ss  was  an  iniportanl  ohjcct,  and  consccincntly  when  it  was  filliid 
vvitli  jrond  hircli-wood  and  \vi:ll  under  way,  it  lu'canic  red-hot.  antl 
rcndcM-cd  the  atmosphere  in  the  tent  insiipportahli;.  In  al)()iit  half  an 
hour  or  so  it  would  cool  down  a  little,  and  one  would  ilrt)p  oil"  to 
sleep,  only  to  wake  in  about  an  hour's  time  shiverintf,  to  luid  c!very- 
thinjjf  frozen  solid  in  the  tent,  and  th(;  fin;  nearly  out.  Such  a  method 
of  passinti  the  nii,du  is  littU;  calculated  to  insure  sound  sKh]).  In  the 
depth  ot  "winter  it  is  cpiite  impossihh;  to  warm  a  tent  from  the  outside, 
however  larije  tin;  (ire  m.iy  hi;.  It  must  he  Iniilt  at  such  a  distance 
that  the  canvas  cannot  jjossihly  catch  fire,  and  lu-nce  all  heat  is  dis- 
persed lonij  before  it  can  reach  antl  warm  tin;  interior  of  the  ti-nt. 
It  is  far  better  to  make  a  "  lean-to  "  of  the  canvas,  build  a  larj^je  fire, 
antl  sleep  out  in  the  open.  A  "lean-to"  is  easily  made  antl  scarcely 
needs  tiescription.  The  name  explains  itself  \'ou  strike  two  poles, 
havin<4'  a  ft)rk  at  the  upper  entl,  into  the  ,t;rt)untl,  slantinj:,^  back 
sliirhtly  ;  lay  ant)ther  fir  pole  horizontally  bi.'tween  the  two,  antl  rest- 
injj;  in  the  crutch  ;  then  place  numerous  poles  antl  branches  leaning 
a^'ainst  the  horizt)ntal  pole,  and  thus  form  a  frame-work  which  you 
cover  in  as  wt;ll  as  you  can  with  birch-bark,  [)ine  boughs,  pitici.'s  of 
canvas,  skins,  or  whati:ver  material  is  most  handy.  You  build  an 
enormous  llrt;  in  the  fn)nt.  antl  tht;  camp  is  complete.  A  "  lean-to" 
must  always  be  constructetl  with  reference  to  tht;  directit)n  of  tht; 
wind;  it  servt's  to  keep  t)ff  the  winti  antl  a  ctM-lain  amount  of  snow 
and  rain.  In  other  rt:s[)ects  it  is,  as  the  Irishman  saitl  of  tht'  setlan- 
chair  with  tht;  lK)tt()m  out,  more  for  the  honor  antl  \i\(.-ir\  of  the  thinji^ 
than  anythinj^  else.  I'"t)r  all  practical  purposes,  \o\\  are  tlecitledly 
out  of  doors. 

Altht)uiL(h  the  scenery  of  the  irrt-ater  part  oi  Canatla  cannot  justly 
be  described  as  <rrantl  t)r  mai^nificent,  yet  there  is  a  weird,  melancholy, 
desolate  beautv  abt)ut  her  barrt;ns,  a  soft  loveliness  in  htT  lakes  antl 
forest  glades  in  summer,  a  gorgetjusness  t)f  cf)lor  in  ht;r  autumn 
woods,  and  a  stern,  sad  stateliness  when  winter  has  draped  tliem  all 
with  sntnv,  that  cannot  be  surpassetl  in  any  land.  I  remember,  as 
tlistinctly  as  if  I  had  left  it  but  yesterday,  the  beauty  of  tin;  camp 
from  which  I  made  my  first  successful  e\peditif)n  after  moose  last 
calling  seast)n.  I  hatl  been  out  several  time's  unsuccessfully,  some- 
times getting  no  answer  at  all ;  at  others,  calling  a  bull  close  uj),  but 
failing  to  induce  him  to  show  himself;   sometimes  failing  on  account 


s 


•1! 


Si  ■,! 


4  i  I  ■  ■■  ''I 


';;  ii 


^•b^ 


<i^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


// 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


|45 

I?," 


m 

1^ 


2.5 

1.8 


U    IIII.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


\ 


;v 


<F 


\\ 


% 


6^ 


9    l! 


I  i^i' ' '! 


(■■ 


188 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


of  a  breezt!  sprinjjinj^  up,  or  of  the  iiij^lu  becominj;  too  much  over- 
cast and  cloudy  to  (.'nable  inc  to  see  him.  My  companions  had  been 
eciually  unfortunate.  We  liad  spent  the  best  fortnijifht  of  the  season 
in  this  way,  and  had  shifted  our  j^round  and  tried  every thinj,^  in  vain. 
At  last,  we  decided  on  one  more  attempt,  broke  camp,  loaiied  our 
canoes,  and  started.  We  made  a  journey  of  two  days,  traversinj^ 
many  lovely  lakes,  carryiu}^  over  several  portaj^es,  and  arrived  at  our 
destination  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  We  drew  up  our 
canoes  at  one  of  the  prettiest  spots  for  a  camp  I  have  ever  seen.  It 
lay  beside  a  little  sheltered,  secluded  bay  at  the  head  of  a  lovely  lake, 
some  three  or  four  miles  in  lenjjth.  The  shores  near  us  were 
covered  with  "hard-wood"  trees — birch,  maple,  and  beech,  in  their 
glorious  autumn  colors ;  while  the  more  distant  coasts  were  clothed 
v.'ith  a  somber,  dark  mass  of  firs  and  spruce.  Above  the  ordinary 
level  of  the  forest  rose  at  intervals  the  ragj^ed,  gaunt  form  of  some 
ancient  and  gigantic  pine  that  had  escaped  the  notice  of  the  luvnber- 
man  or  had  proved  unworthy  of  his  ax.  In  front  of  us,  and  to  the 
right,  acting  as  a  breakwater  to  our  harbor,  lay  a  small  island  covered 
with  hemlock  and  tamarack  trees,  the  latter  leaning  over  in  various 
and  most  graceful  angles,  overhanging  the  water  to  such  an  extent 
as  sometimes  to  be  almost  horizontal  with  it.  Slightly  to  the  left 
was  a  shallow  spot  in  the  lake  marked  by  a  growth  of  rushes,  vividly 
green  at  the  top,  while  the  lower  halves  were  of  a  most  brilliant 
scarle  affording  die  precise  amount  of  warmth  and  bright  color- 
ing that  the  picture  retpiired.  It  is  extraordinary  how  everything 
seems  to  turn  to  brilliant  colors  in  the  autumn  in  these  northern 
latitudes.  The  evening  was  perfectly  still ;  the  surface  of  the  lake, 
unbroken  by  the  smallest  ripple,  shone  like  a  mirror  and  reflected 
the  coast-line  and  trees  so  accurately,  that  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
where  water  endetl  and  land  began. 

The  love  of  money  and  the  love  of  sjjort  are  the  passions  that 
lead  men  into  such  scenes  as  these.  The  lumberman,  the  salmon - 
fisher,  and  the  hunter  in  pursuit  of  large  game,  monopolize  the 
beauties  of  nature  in  these  Canadian  wilds.  The  moose  ( Cen<us 
Alecs)  and  caribou  {Ccn'/ts  raiii^ijcr)  are  the  principal  large  game 
to  Ik;  found  in  Canada.  The  moose  is  by  far  the  biggest  of  all  ex- 
isting deer.  He  attains  to  a  height  of  quite  eighteen  hands,  and 
weighs   about    twelve    hundred    pounds   or   more.      The    moose  of 


;i:ii!  *' 

!|li!! 


Moose- Hunting  in  Canada. 


America  is  almost,  if  not  quite,  identical  with  the  elk  of  Kurope,  but 
it  attains  a  j^reater  size.  The  horns  especially  are  much  finer  than 
those  to  be  found  on  the  elk  in  Russia,  Prussia,  or  the  Scandinavian 
countries. 

The  moose  has  many  advantages  over  other  deer,  but  it  suffers 
also  from  some  terrible  disadvantages,  which  make  it  an  easy  prey 
to  its  great  and  principal  destroyer,  man.  Whereas  among  most,  if 
not  all,  the  members  of  the  deer  tribe,  the  female  has  but  one  fawn 
at  a  birth,  the  cow-moose  generally  drops  two  calves — which  is  much 
in  favor  of  the  race.  The  moose  is  blessed  with  an  intensel)-  acute 
sense  of  smell,  with  an  almost  equally  acute  sense  of  hearing,  and  it 
is  exceedingly  wary  and  difficult  of  approach.  On  the  other  hand, 
it  is  but  little  fitted  to  move  in  deep  snow,  owing  to  its  great  weight. 
Unlike  the  caribou,  which  has  hoofs  specially  adapted  for  dee|)  snow, 
the  moose's  feet  are  small,  compared  with  the  great  bulk  of  the  ani- 
mal. If,  therefore,  it  is  once  found  and  started  when  the  snow  lies 
deep  upon  the  ground,  its  destruction  is  a  matter  of  certainty ;  it 
breaks  through  the  snow  to  solid  earth  at  every  step,  becomes  speetl- 
ily  exhausted,  and  falls  an  easy  prey  to  men  and  dogs.  Again,  a 
large  tract  of  land  is  necessary  to  supply  food  for  even  one  moose. 
In  summer,  it  feeds  a  good  ileal  upon  the  stems  and  roots  of  water- 
lilies,  but  its  staple  food  consists  of  the  tender  shoots  of  the  moose- 
wood,  ground-maple,  alder,  birch,  poplar,  and  other  deciduous  trees. 
it  is  fond  of  ground-hemlock,  and  will  also  occasionally  browse  upon 
the  sapiu,  or  Canada  balsam  fir.  and  even  upon  spruce,  though  that  is 
very  rare,  and  I  have  known  them  when  hard  pressed  to  gnaw  bark 
off  the  trees.  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick  are  nearly  "  settled 
up."  More  and  more  land  is  cleared  and  brought  under  cultivation 
every  day ;  more  and  more  forest  cut  ilown  year  by  year  ;  and  the 
moose-supporting  portion  of  the  country  is  becoming  very  limited  in 
extent.  On  the  other  hand,  the  moose  is  an  animal  which  could 
easily  be  preserved  if  only  reasonable  laws  could  be  enforced.  It 
adapts  itself  wonderfully  to  civilization.  .\  young  moose  will  become 
as  tame  as  a  domestic  cow  in  a  short  timi'.  Moose  become  accus- 
tomed to  the  ordinary  noises  of  a  settled  country  with  such  facility, 
that  they  may  sometimes  be  founil  feeding  within  a  few  himdred 
yards  of  a  road.  :\  railway  does  not  appear  to  disturb  them  at  all. 
I  have  shot  moose  within  sounil  of  the  barking  of  dogs  and  the  cack- 


il    !l 


iri 


In 


190 


Moose-Hunting  in  Canada. 


linj^  of  geese  of  a  farm-house,  in  places  where  the  animals  must  have 
been  constantly  hearing  men  shouting,  dogs  harking,  and  all  the 
noises  of  a  settlement.  Their  sense  of  hearing  is  developed  in  a 
wonderful  degree,  and  they  appear  to  be  possessed  of  some  marvel- 
ous power  of  iliscriminating  between  innocent  sounds  and  noises 
which  indicate  danger.  On  a  windy  day,  when  the  forest  is  full  of 
noises, — trees  cracking,  branches  snapping,  and  twigs  breaking, — 
the  moose  will  take  no  notice  of  all  these  natural  sounds;  but  if  a 
man  breaks  a  twig,  or,  treading  on  a  dry  stick,  snaps  it  on  the 
ground,  the  moose  will  distinguish  that  sound  from  the  hundred 
voices  of  the  storm,  and  be  off  in  a  second. 

Why  it  is  that  the  moose  has  developed  no  peculiarity  with 
regard  to  his  feet,  adapting  him  especially  to  the  country  in  which  he 
dwells,  while  the  caribou  that  shares  the  woods  and  barrens  with  him 
has  done  so  in  a  remarkable  degree,  I  will  leave  philosophers  to 
decide.  In  the  caribou,  the  hoofs  are  very  broad  and  round,  and 
split  up  very  high,  so  that,  when  the  animal  treads  upon  the  soft 
surface  of  the  snow,  the  hoofs  spreading  out  form  a  natural  kind  of 
snow-shoe  and  prevent  its  sinking  deep.  The  frog  becomes  al)sorbed 
toward  winter,  so  that  the  whole  weight  of  the  animal  rests  upon  the 
hoof,  the  edges  of  which  are  as  sharp  as  a  knife,  ami  give  the  animals 
so  secure  a  foothold  that  they  can  run  without  fear  or  danger  on  the 
slippery  surface  of  smooth  glare  ice.  Now  the  moose,  on  the  con- 
trary, is  about  as  awkwanl  on  the  ice  as  a  shod  horse,  and  will  not 
venture  out  on  th-.  frozen  surface  of  a  lake  if  he  can  help  it.  His  feet 
are  rather  small  and  pointed,  and  allow  him  to  sink  and  flounder 
helplessly  in  the  deep  snows  of  midwinter  and  early  spring. 

There  are  several  ways  in  which  the  moose  is  hunted ;  some 
legitimate  and  some  decidedly  illegitimate.  I'irst  of  all  there  is 
moose-calling,  which  to  my  mind  is  the  most  interesting  of  all  wood- 
land sports.  It  commences  about  the  beginning  of  September,  and 
lasts  for  about  si.\  week.s,  and  consists  in  imitating  the  cry  of  the 
female  moose,  and  thereby  calling  up  the  male.  This  may  .sound 
easy  enough  to  do,  especially  as  the  bull  at  this  season  of  the  year 
loses  all  his  caution,  or  the  greater  part  of  it.  Hut  the  pastime  is 
surrounded  by  so  many  tlifticulties,  that  it  is  really  the  most  pre- 
carious of  all  the  methods  of  pursuing  or  endeavoring  to  outwit  the 
moose ;  and  it  is  at  the  same  time  the  most  "xciting.    I  will  endeavor 


il 


Moose 'Hunting  in  Canada. 


191 


to  describe  the  method  by  j^ivinjr  a  slijj;ht  sketch  of  the  death  of  a 
moose  in  New  HrunswicI-.  woods  hist  year. 

It  was  early  in  Octob-r.  We  had  pitched  our  tents  —  for  at  that 
season  of  the  year  the  hunter  dwells  in  tents  —  upon  a  beautiful 
hard-wood  ridge,  bright  with  the  painted  foliage  of  birch  and  maple. 
The  weather  had  been  bad  for  calling,  ami  no  one  had  gone  out, 
though  we  knew  there  were  moose  in  the  neighborhood.  We 
had  cut  a  great  store  of  firewood,  gathered  bushels  of  cranberries, 
dug  a  well  in  the  swamp  close  by,  and  attended  to  the  thousaml  and 
one  little  comforts  that  experience  teaches  one  to  provide  in  the 
woods,  anti  hati  absolutely  nothing  to  ilo.  The  day  was  intensely 
hot  and  sultry,  and  if  any  one  had  approached  the  camp  about  noon 
he  would  have  tleemed  it  deserted.  All  hands  had  hung  their  l)lankets 
over  the  tents,  by  way  of  protection  from  the  sun,  and  had  gone  to 
sleep.  .About  one  o'clock  I  awoke,  and  sauiitereil  out  of  the  ti-nt 
to  stretch  my  limbs  anil  take  a  look  at  the  sky.  1  was  particularly 
anxious  about  the  weather,  for  I  was  tired  of  idleness,  and  had  de 
termined  to  go  out  if  the  evening  offered  a  tolerably  fair  promise  of 
a  fine  night.  To  get  a  better  view  of  the  heavens,  I  climlutd  to  my 
accustomed  look-out  in  a  comfortable  fork  near  the  summit  of  a 
neighboring  pine,  and  noted  with  disgust  certain  little  black  shreds 
of  cloud  rising  slowly  above  the  horizon.  To  aid  my  indecision  I 
consulted  my  dear  old  friend.  John  Williams,  the  Indian,  who,  after 
the  manner  of  his  kind,  stoutly  refused  to  give  any  definite  opinion 
on  the  subject.  All  that  I  could  get  out  of  him  was.  "  W'ell,  dunno  ; 
mebbe  fine,  mebbe  wind  get  up;  guess  |)retty  calm,  perhaps,  in 
morning.  Suppose  we  go  and  try,  or,  p'raps,  mebbe  wait  till  to- 
morrow." Finally  1  decided  to  go  out :  for  although,  if  there  is  the 
slightest  wind,  it  is  impossible  to  call,  yet  any  wise  and  prudent  man, 
unless  there  are  unmistakable  signs  of  a  storm  brewing,  will  take  the 
chance :  for  the  calling  season  is  short  and  soon  over. 

I  have  said  that  an  absolutely  calm  night  is  reijuired  for  calling, 
and  for  this  reason :  the  moose  is  so  wary,  that,  in  coming  up  to  the 
call,  he  will  invariably  make  a  circle  tlown  wind  in  order  to  get  scent 
of  the  animal  which  is  calling  him.  Therefore,  if  there  is  a  breath 
of  wind  astir,  the  moose  will  get  scent  of  the  man  before  the  man  has 
a  chance  of  seeing  the  moose.  A  calm  night  is  the  first  thing  neces- 
sary.     Secondly,  you  must  have  a  moonlight  night.      No  moose  will 


r 


193 


Moose -Hinitiiig  in  Canada. 


come  ii|)  in  the  day-time.  You  can  l)egin  to  call  about  an  hour 
before  sunset,  anil  moose  will  answer  up  to  say  two  hours  after  sunrise. 
There  is  very  little  time,  therefore,  unless  there  is  bright  moonlight. 
In  the  thiril  place,  I  need  scarcely  observe  that  to  call  moose  succe.ss- 
fully  you  must  find  a  place  near  camp  where  there  are  moose  to  call, 
anil  where  there  are  not  only  moose,  but  bull  moose  ;  not  only  bull 
moose,  but  bulls  that  have  not  already  provided  themselves  with  con- 
sorts ;  for  if  a  real  cow  begins  calling,  the  rough  imitation  in  the 
shape  of  a  man  has  a  very  poor  chance  of  success,  and  may  as  well 
give  it  up  as  a  bad  job.  Fourthly,  you  must  find  a  spot  that  is  con- 
venient for  calling,  that  is  to  say,  a  piece  of  dry  ground,  for  no  hu- 
man being  can  lie  out  all  night  in  the  wet,  particularly  in  the  month 
of  October,  when  it  freezes  hard  toward  morning.  You  must  have 
dry  ground,  well  sheltered  with  trees  or  shrubs  of  some  kind,  and  a 
tolerably  open  space  around  it  for  some  distance ;  open  enough  for 
you  to  see  the  bull  coming  up  when  he  is  yet  at  a  little  distance,  but 
not  a  large  e.xtent  of  open  ground,  for  no  moose  will  venture  out  far 
on  an  entirely  bare  exposed  plain.  He  is  disinclined  to  leave  the 
friendly  shelter  of  the  trees.  A  perfect  spot,  therefore,  is  not  easily 
found.  Such  are  some  of  the  difficulties  which  attend  moose-calling 
and  render  it  a  most  |)recarious  pastime.  I^'our  conditions  are  neces- 
sary, and  all  four  must  be  combined  at  one  and  the  same  time. 

Having  once  determined  to  go  out.  preparations  do  not  take 
long.  You  have  only  to  roll  up  a  blanket  and  overcoat,  take  some 
tea,  sugar,  salt,  anil  biscuit,  a  kettle,  two  tin  pannikins,  and  a  small 
ax,  with,  I  need  scarcely  say,  rifle  and  ammunition.  The  outfit  is 
simple ;  but  the  hunter  should  look  to  everything  himself,  for  an 
Indian  would  leave  his  head  behind  if  it  were  loose.  .\  good  thick 
blanket  is  very  necessary,  for  moose-calling  involves  more  hardship 
and  more  suffering  from  cold  than  an\'  other  branch  of  the  noble 
science  of  hunting  witii  which  1  am  acquainted.  It  is  true  that  the 
weather  is  not  especially  cold  at  that  time  of  year,  but  there  are 
sharp  frosts  occasionally  at  night,  and  the  moose-caller  cannot  make 
a  fire  by  which  to  warm  himself,  for  the  smell  of  smoke  is  carried  a 
long  way  by  the  slightest  current  of  air.  Neither  dare  he  run  about 
to  warm  his  feet,  or  flap  his  hands  against  his  sides,  or  kee|)  up 
the  circulation  l»y  taking  exercise  of  any  kind,  for  fear  of  making 
a  noise.     He  is  sure  to  have  got  wet  through  with  perspiration  on 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


•93 


his  way  to  the  calHng  place,  which  of  course  makes  him  more  sensi- 
tive to  cold. 

So  1  ami  the  Indian  shouldered  our  packs,  and  started  for  the 
barren,  following  an  old  logging  road.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  explain  a 
little  what  is  meant  by  a  "logging  road"  and  a  "barren."  A  log- 
ging road  is  a  path  cut  through  the  forest  in  winter,  when  the  snow 
is  on  the  ground  and  the  lakes  are  frozen,  along  which  the  trunks  of 
trees  or  logs  are  hauled  by  horses  or  oxen  to  the  water.  A  logging 
road  is  a  most  pernicious  thing.  Never  follow  one  if  you  are  lost 
in  the  woods,  for  one  end  is  sure  to  lead  to  a  lake  or  a  river,  which 
is  decidedly  inconvenient  until  the  ice  has  formed ;  and  in  the  other 
direction  it  will  seduce  you  deep  into  the  inner  recesses  of  the 
forest,  and  then  come  to  a  sudden  termination  at  some  moss-covered, 
dec  .yed  pine  stump,  which  is  discouraging.  A  "  barren,"  as  the  term 
indicates,  is  a  piece  of  waste  land ;  but,  as  all  hunting  grounds  are 
waste,  that  definition  would  scarcely  be  sufficient  to  describe  what 
a  "barren"  is.  It  means,  in  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick,  an 
open  marsh)-  space  in  the  forest,  sometimes  so  soft  as  to  be  almost 
impassable ;  at  other  times  composed  of  good  solid  hard  peat.  The 
surface  is  occasionally  rough  and  tussocky,  like  a  great  deal  of 
country  in  Scotland. 

In  Newfoundland,  there  are  barrens  of  many  miles  in  extent, 
high,  and,  comparatively  speaking,  dry  plateaus ;  but  the  barrens 
in  the  provinces  I  am  speaking  of  vary  from  a  little  open  space 
of  a  few  acres  to  a  plain  of  five  or  six  miles  in  length  or  breadth. 
There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  discussion  as  to  the  origin  of  these 
"barrens."  It  appears  to  me  that  they  must  have  been  originally 
lakes,  which  have  become  dry  by  the  gradual  elevation  of  the  land, 
and  through  the  natural  processes  by  which  shallow  waters  become 
choked  up  and  filled  with  vegetable  debris.  They  have  all  the 
appearance  of  dry  lakes.  They  are  about  the  size  of  the  numerous 
sheets  of  water  that  are  so  frequent  in  the  country.  The  forest  sur- 
rounds them  completely,  precisely  in  the  same  way  as  it  does  a  lake, 
following  all  the  lines  and  curvatures  of  the  bays  and  indentations  of 
its  shores ;  and  every  elevated  spot  of  drj',  solid  ground  is  covered 
with  trees  exactly  as  are  the  little  islands  that  so  thickly  stud  the  sur- 
face of  the  Nova  Scotian  lakes.  Most  of  the  lakes  in  the  country 
are  shallow,  and  in  many  of  them  the  process  by  which  they  become 

13 


i  P 


!      (S 


I!  t   ■  t 


liiiHi 


194 


Moosv-Hfiiitiiig  ill  Canada. 


tilled  up  can  be  seen  at  work.  The  j^roiincl  rises  consiiierably  in  the 
center  of  these  barrens,  which  is,  I  believe,  the  case  with  all  bojrs 
and  peat  mosses.  I  have  never  measured  any  ol  their  areas,  neither 
have  I  attempted  to  estimate  the  extent  of  the  curvature  of  the  sur- 
face ;  but  on  a  barren  where  1  hunted  last  year,  of  about  two  miles 
across,  the  {ground  rose  so  much  in  the  center  that  when  standinj^  at 
one  ed^e  we  could  see  the  upper  half  of  the  pine  trees  which  j^'rew 
at  the  other.  The  rise  appeared  to  be  (juite  jjjrailual.  ami  the  effect 
was  as  if  one  stood  on  an  e.xceedin^ly  small  ijlobe,  the  natural  curv- 
ature of  which  hill  the  opposite  trees. 

To  return  to  our  callinjr.  We  <^oX.  out  upon  the  barren,  or,  rather, 
upon  a  deep  bay  or  indentation  of  a  large  barren,  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  and  made  our  way  to  a  little  wooded  islanil,  which 
afforded  us  shelter  and  tiry  ground,  and  which  was  within  easy 
shot  of  one  side  of  the  bay,  and  so  situated  with  regard  to  the  other 
that  a  mot)se  coming  from  that  direction  would  not  hesitate  to 
approach  it.  The  first  thing  to  be  done  is  to  make  a  lair  for 
oneself — a  little  bed.  You  pick  out  a  nice  sheltered  soft  spot, 
chop  down  a  few  sapin  branches  with  your  knife,  gather  a  (juantity 
of  dry  grass  or  bracken,  and  make  as  comfortable  a  bed  as  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  will  permit. 

Having  made  these  little  preparations,  1  sat  down  and  smoked 
my  pipe  while  the  Indian  climbed  up  a  neighboring  pine-tree  to 
"call."  The  only  object  of  ascending  a  tree  is  that  the  sound  may 
be  carried  further  into  the  recesses  of  the  forest.  The  instrument 
wherewith  the  caller  endeavors  to  imitate  the  cry  of  the  cow  con- 
sists of  a  cone-shaped  tube  made  out  of  a  sheet  of  birch -bark  rolled 
up.  This  horn  is  about  eighteen  inches  in  length  and  three  or  four 
in  diameter  at  the  broadest  end,  the  narrow  end  being  just  large 
enough  to  fit  the  mouth.  The  "caller"  uses  it  like  a  speaking- 
trumpet,  groaning  and  roaring  through  it,  imitating  as  well  as  he 
can  the  cry  of  the  cow-moose.  I*"ew  white  men  can  call  really  well, 
but  some  Indians,  by  long  practice,  can  imitate  the  animal  with  won- 
derful success.  Fortunately,  however,  no  two  moose  appear  to  have 
precisely  the  same  voice,  but  make  all  kinds  of  strange  and  diabolical 
noises,  so  that  even  a  novice  in  the  art  may  not  despair  of  himself  call- 
ing up  a  bull.  The  real  difficulty — the  time  when  you  retpiire  a  perfect 
mastery  of  the  art — is  when  the  bull  is  close  by,  suspicious,  and 


1* 


Moose- Hunting  in  Canada. 


•95 


listcninj;  with  every  tilu-r  of  its  inti-nscly  accurate  ear  to  detect  any 
soiiiul  that  may  reveal  the  true  n.iture  of  the  animal  h*-  is  approach- 
injf.  The  smallest  hoarseness,  the  slightest  wronj,'  vihratitin,  the 
least  unnatural  sound,  will  then  |)rove  fatal.  The  intlian  will  kneel  on 
the  jrround,  putting  the  broail  end  of  the  horn  close  to  the  earth,  so 
as  to  deaden  the  sound,  and,  with  an  a^'onized  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, will  imitate  with  such  marvelous  fidelity  the  wailinj^.  anxious, 
supplicating  cr>  of  the  cow,  that  the  bull,  unahle  to  resist,  rushes  out 
from  the  friendly  cover  of  the  trees,  ami  exposes  himself  to  death. 
Or  it  may  be  that  the  most  accomplished  caller  fails  to  induce  the  sus- 
picious animal  to  show  himself;  the  more  ijf  noble  passion  of  jealousy 
must  then  be  aroused.  The  Indian  will  j^runt  like  an  enrajfed  bull, 
break  dead  branches  from  the  trees,  thrash  his  birch-bark  .horn  aj,'ainst. 
the  bushes,  thus  making;  a  noise  exactly  like  a  moose  fii^htinj^f  the 
bushes  with  his  antlers.  The  bull  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  a  rival, 
and,  casting  his  prudence  to  the  winds,  not  unfrequently  falls  a  victim 
to  jealousy  and  rage. 

The  hunter  calls  throuj^h  his  horn,  first  jj[ently,  in  case  there 
should  be  a  bull  very  near.  He  then  waits  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or 
so,  and,  if  he  gets  no  answer,  calls  again  a  little  louiler,  waiting  at 
least  a  quarter  of  an  hour — or  half  an  hour  some  Indians  sa)-  is  best 
—  after  each  attempt. 

The  cry  of  the  cow  is  a  long-drawn-out  melancholy  k  Mind,  im- 
possible to  describe  by  words.  The  answer  of  the  bull -moose,  on 
the  contrary,  is  a  rather  short  guttural  grunt,  and  resembles  at  a 
great  distance  the  sound  made  by  an  ax  chopping  wood,  or  that 
which  a  man  makes  when  pidling  hard  at  a  refractory  clay-pipe. 
You  continue  calling  at  intervals  until  you  hear  an  answer,  when 
your  tactics  depend  upon  the  way  in  which  the  animal  acts,  (ireat 
acuteness  of  the  sense  of  hearing  is  necessary,  because  llu-  bull  will 
occasionally  come  up  without  answering  at  all :  and  the  first  indica- 
tion of  his  presence  consists  of  the  slight  noise  he  makes  in  advanc- 
ing. Sometimes  a  bull  will  come  up  with  the  nu)st  extreme  caution  : 
at  others,  he  will  come  tearing  up  through  the  woods,  as  hard  as  he 
can  go,  making  a  noise  like  a  sieam-engini'.  and  rushing  through 
the  forest  apparently  without  the  slightest  fear. 

On  the  particular  occasion  which  I  am  recalling,  it  was  a  most 
lovely  evening.     It  wanted  but  about  half  an  hour  to  sundown,  and 


|5  \ 


!r 


1 


•     C' 


.     i 


196 


Moosc-ffiiHfiiiii  in  CniKiifa. 


all  was  |MTlrctly  still.  riu-rr  was  not  tin-  slii;ht»'st  soiiiul  «•!  an\ - 
tiunjj;  inovinj;  in  the  lorcst.  t-xorpt  th.it  of  tiir  unlntiufnt  flight  ol  a 
m«>oso-l)iril  dost-  h\  Ami  so  I  sat  watchin).;  that  most  j^lorious 
transiormation  si-fiu — llu-  ihanijr  ol'  ilay  into  nii;ht ;  saw  ihf  ^'rcat 
sun  sink  slowly  ilown  luhinil  tlu'  pint-  tni-s  :  saw  thr  tiw  cloiuls  that 
hovrn-il  niotionlfss  .iliovr  in«'  l)la/»'  into  tlu*  i-oK»r  ol"  l)ri!;ht  Imrnisluil 
jft»lil :  siiw  thf  wholf  atinosphirr  lu-conu-  ijlorittiis  with  a  sol't  yi-llow 
lijjht,  j^raihially  ilyinj^  tnii  as  the  niijht  tript  on,  till  only  in  thi* 
wt'strrn  sky  tlurr  lin,u»Ti'il  a  Taint  i^low.  latlins;  into  .1  pair  it»M 
applf-ijrt'fn,  against  whith  thr  |)ints  stoiul  out  as  iil.uk  as  miilni^ht. 
anil  as  sharply  il«tinf»l  as  thoiij^h  rut  out  of  strt-l.  As  tin-  ilarknrss 
ilffprni'il,  a  younj;  iTi-sctnt  moon  shonr  out  pair  anil  clrar.  with  a 
j^littrrinj^j  star  a  littU'  ht-low  tht-  lowrr  horn,  ami  al>ov«-  h»r  anotlu-r 
star  of  li'ssrr  ma^nitmlr.  It  lookiil  as  though  a  supimatural  ji-wi-l 
—  a  hravinly  prm'.ant,  tw»>  j^'n-at  iliamoml  solitairis.  .uul  a  diamoml 
crt'sii-nt  —  wrrt'  h.in!L;;in4;  in  tlu-  wi'sti-rn  sky.  .Xltrr  awhilr.  tin- 
nu>on,  too.  sank  luhiiul  tlu-  trrrs,  ami  ilarknrss  IVII  upon  tlu'  larth. 

I  know  of"  nothing  mon'  rm-liantinj^  than  a  in-rfri-tl)  ralm  ami 
silrnt  autumnal  sunsi't  in  thr  womls.  unlrss  it  hr  thi-  sunrisr.  which, 
to  my  iniml.  is  morr  lovfly  still,  .'-iunsi-t  is  luMuiiful.  I>ut  sail:  sun- 
rise is  ri|ually  In-autilul.  anil  full  of"  life,  happimss.  ami  hope.  I  love 
to  wati-h  the  stars  lu-i^in  to  failc  to  sit  thr  first  taint  white  liyht 
clear  up  thf  darkness  of"  tin-  rastern  sk\.  ,uvl  L;railually  ileepeii  into 
the  ylorious  colorinj.;  that  heralils  the  a|»proaihinL;  sun.  I  love  to 
see  Nature  awake  slnulilerini.,\  as  sh«-  alw.n  s  ilots.  ami  arouse  her- 
self into  active,  husy  lif"r  :  to  note  the  insects,  hinls,  anil  beasts  shake 
olil"  slumher  ai\.l  set  alnnit  tlu  ir  il.iily  tasks. 

Still,  the  sunset  is  im\pressii)lv  lovilv,  ami  I  ilo  not  imu  v  the 
comlitii>n  and  frame  of  mind  iA  .1  man  who  cannot  he  as  nearly 
happy  as  man  can  l>e.  when  he  is  1\  in^  comfortahU  on  a  luxurious 
and  soft  couch,  tja/iii.i;  in  perfect  pi-ace  on  the  j^lorious  scene  around 
him,  rejoicini;  all  his  senses,  and  saturatinij  himself  with  the  wonder- 
ful beauties  o\  a  northern  sunset. 

So  I  sat  quietlv  below,  while  the  Indi.m  c.dled  from  the  tree-top. 
Not  a  sound  answered  to  the  three  or  four  lon<.;-dr.iwn-out  notes  with 
which  he  hoped  to  lure  the  bull,  .\fter  a  loni.;  interv.it  he  c.dled  a^i-iin. 
but  the  same  perfect,  utter  silence  reiijned  in  the  woods,  .1  silence 
broken  only  by  the  melancholy  hootins^  of  an  owl.  or  the  imaginarx 


.\foosi' - lliintiiiii  ill  (  aiuuiii. 


197 


ii(»isfs  that  lillcii  nn  lu'.nl.  It  is  rxtra«>rilin.iry  lunv  small  noisrs 
lu'coim-  mai;iut"n'il  wlun  the  tar  is  kt-pt  .11  a  j^rtMt  it-nsion  lor  any 
l»n.v;th  ol"  tiiiu-.  and  how  thr  hrail  luroiiu-s  tillrtl  with  all  kimls  ot' 
liititidus  stunuls ;  ami  it  is  vt-ry  rnnark.ililr  also  how  uttrrly  inipos- 
sihlf  it  is  to  (.listiiij^iiish  lu'twrt-n  a  Ituid  noise  iitttTtil  at  a  distance 
and  a  srarci-ly  .uidihir  sound  cU>sf  hv.  Altv-r  listcniny  very  in- 
tintlv  amidst  thr  profound  silimt"  of'  a  »|ui»i  nij^ht  in  thf  forest  tor 
.m  hour  or  so,  tii«-  lu-ail  luconus  so  sunhari^i'd  with  Mood,  owinL;.  I 
prt'sumr.  to  all  tlu'  l;uultii's  In-in^  conci-ntr.Util  on  a  sini;lr  sens*.-,  ih.it 
one  srrms  to  hear  distant  voia-s.  the  rinijinj;  t>f  hells,  and  all  kinds 
of'  str.m^e  and  impossihle  noises.  A  man  lHTi>mes  st>  mrvously 
alive  to  the  slightest  disturliance  of'  the  almost  awful  silence  ol"  a 
still  nii^ht  in  the  woiuls,  th.ii  the  t'.iinti'st  sound  —  the  cracking  i>f' 
a  minute  twij;,  or  the  fall  ol  a  leal,  evi-n  at  a  yreat  ilistanci- — will 
make  him  almost  jump  out  of' his  skin,  lie  is  also  apt  to  mak»' 
the  most  ludicrous  mistaki-s.  loward  mornini^,  about  day  hreak, 
1  liave  t'reijuently  mistaken  the  tirst  faint  lui//  of"  some  minute  fly, 
within  a  foi>t  or  so  ol  my  i-ar,  r(>r  the  call  «>!  miH)se  two  or  thri'e 
miles  oil". 

Ahout  ten  i>'cK>ck,  tin  liulian  j^ave  it  u|)  in  ilespair  .mil  c.uue 
ilown  the  tree  ;  we  rolUd  ourselvi-s  up  in  tMir  ruys,  pulleil  tlu-  1um)iIs 
ot  t»ur  hl.mki'l  coats  over  i»ur  heads,  antl  went  to  sleep.  I  awoke  liter- 
ally shakins;  with  cold.  It  was  still  the  dead  ol"  nii^ht,  anil  the  stars 
were  shininy  with  intense  brilliancy,  to  my  i^reat  ilisappoiniment,  lor 
1  was  ill  ho|>es  ol"  seeing;  the  lust  striaks  ol"  d.iwn.  It  was  Iree/in*; 
very  haril,  lar  too  hard  lor  me  to  think  of'  j;oin<4  to  sleep  aj^ain.  So 
I  rouseil  the  Indian,  .uul  suiL^ijested  th.U  he  should  try  ani>lher  c.ill  or 
two. 

.Xcconlinuily.  we  stole  ilown  to  the  i-di^f  of"  the  little  point  «>l  wooil 


m  w 


hich 


we 


.id  insconci'd  ourselves 


ami  in  a  tew  minutes  the  forest 


was  n-echoiiiL;  the  plaintive  notes  of"  tiie  moose.  Not  an  answer, 
not  .1  sounil  —  utti-r  siUnci',  .is  it"  .ill  the  world  were  ilead  !  hroki-n 
suddenlv  and  horribly  bv  .1  \ell  th.it  m.ule  the  blood  cunlli-  in  one's 


vems. 


It  was 


the  1 


ons.;,  i|u.iven 
Alt 


n< 


lum.m,  l)Ut  urn 


arthl 


v  scream  ot 


er  what  seemed  tt>  be  m.iin   iiours. 


a  loon  on  tin-  distant  Like 
but  what  was  in  ri'alit\  but  a  short  tinu'.  the  tirst  iiulicitions  old.iwn 
reve.iled  themselves  in  the  rising  ot  the  morniiii;  star,  anil  the  sliijhtest 
possible  palinir  of  the  eastern  sky.  Ihe  cold  j4;rew  almost  unbearable. 
13A 


■  % 


\    i;( 


mm 

■IIP-' 

{.Mr 
M 


I'll  V 


: 


m^ 


i 


.1   :".'l: 


198 


Moose- Hhu Hug  in  Camilla. 


That  curious  shiver  that  runs  tlirouj^'h  naturtr — the  first  icy  current 
of  air  that  preceties  the  day — chilled  us  to  the  hones.  I  rolled 
myself  up  in  my  blanket  and  lighteil  a  pipe,  tryin^f  to  retain  what 
little  caloric  remaintnl  in  my  body,  while  the  inilian  aj^ain  ascentled 
the  tree.  Hy  the  time  he  had  called  twice  it  was  j^rty  dawn.  Mirds 
were  be^'inning  to  move  about  and  busy  s<|uirrels  to  look  out  for 
their  breakfast  of  pine-buds.  I  sat  listeninj^  intently,  and  watching 
the  blank,  emotionless  face  of  the  Indian  as  he  j^azed  around  him, 
when  suddenly  1  saw  his  countenance  blaze  up  with  vivid  e.xcitement. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  start  from  his  head,  his  muscles  twitched,  his  face 
glowed,  he  seemed  transformed  in  a  moment  into  a  different  being. 
At  the  same  time  he  began,  with  the  utmost  celerity,  but  with  ex- 
treme caution,  to  descend  to  the  ground.  He  motioned  to  me  not 
to  make  any  noise,  and  whispered  that  a  moose  was  coming  across 
the  barren  and  must  be  close  by.  Grasping  my  rifle,  we  crawled 
carefully  through  the  grass,  crisp  and  noisy  with  frost,  down  to  the 
edge  of  our  island  of  woods,  and  there,  after  peering  cautiously 
around  some  stunted  juniper  bushes,  I  saw  standing,  about  sixty 
yards  off,  a  bull-moose.  He  looked  gigantic  in  the  thin  morn- 
ing mist  which  was  beginning  to  drift  up  from  the  surface  of  the 
barren.  Great  volumes  of  steam  issued  from  his  nostrils,  and  his 
whole  aspect,  looming  in  the  fog,  was  vast  and  almost  terrific.  He 
stood  there,  perfectly  motionless,  staring  at  the  spot  from  which  he 
had  heard  the  cry  of  the  supposed  cow,  irresolute  whether  to  come 
on  or  not.  The  Indian  was  anxious  to  bring  him  a  little  closer,  but 
I  did  not  wish  to  run  the  risk  of  scaring  him ;  and  so,  taking  aim  as 
fairly  as  I  could,  considering  I  was  shaking  all  over  with  cold,  I  fired 
and  struck  him  behind  the  shoulder.  He  plunged  forward  on  his 
knees,  jumped  up,  rushed  forward  for  about  two  Hundred  yards,  and 
then  fell  dead  at  the  edge  of  the  heavy  timber  on  the  far  side  of  the 
barren. 

We  went  to  work  then  and  there  to  skin  and  clean  him,  an  oper- 
ation which  probably  took  us  an  hour  or  more ;  antl  having  rested 
ourselves  a  few  minutes,  we  started  off  to  take  a  little  cruise  round 
the  edge  of  the  barren  and  see  if  there  were  any  caribou  on  it.  I 
should  explain  that  "cruising"  is,  in  the  provinces,  performed  on 
land  as  well  as  at  sea.  A  man  says  he  has  spent  all  summer  "cruis- 
ing" the  woods  in  search  of  pine  timber,  and  if  your  Indian  wants 


Moose-IIuiitiiig  ill  Cainuiu. 


'99 


yon  to  ^o  out  for  a  walk,  \\v  will  say.  "  I. ft  us  take  a  cruise  aroinul 
souu-'wIu-Tc. "  Accorilinj^fly,  \vr  truil^'inl  otf  (»vt'r  tin-  soli,  yielding; 
siirfaci!  of  tlu"  l)o^f.  ami.  takinj,'  advantajfr  of  sonu*  siuni«-tl  luislu-s. 
crossed  to  the  opposite  siilf,  so  as  to  Im;  well  down  wind  in  case  anv 
animal  should  be  on  it.  The  Indian  then  ascended  to  the  top  ol  the 
iii^diest  pine-tree  he  coidd  fniil,  takinjf  my  j,dasses  with  him.  and  had 
a  ^ood  look  all  over  the  barren.  Ihere  was  not  a  thinjf  l«»  he  seen. 
We  then  passed  throuj^di  a  small  strip  of  wood,  and  came  «)ut  u|)on 
another  plain,  and  there,  on  ascemlin^r  a  tree  to  look  round.  tin- 
Indian  espied  two  caribou  fe-eilinjj;  toward  the  timlM-r.  We  had  l«) 
wait  some  little  time  till  they  j,'ot  behinil  an  island  of  trei-s.  and  then, 
runninj.,'  as  fast  as  the  soft  nature  of  the  tjround  woulil  permit,  we 
contriveil  to  jret  close  up  to  them  just  as  the\  entered  the  thick 
woods,  and,  after  an  exciting  stalk  of  about  half  an  hour.  I  managed 
to  kill  both. 

Having  performed  the  obsecpiies  of  thi;  chase  upon  the  two  cari- 
bou, we  returned  to  our  calling-place.  My  this  time  it  was  ai)out 
noon  ;  the  sun  was  blazing  ilown  with  almost  tropical  heat.  W'v  had 
been  awake  the  greater  part  of  the  night,  and  had  clone  a  hard 
morning's  work,  and  felt  a  decided  need  for  refreshment.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  had  lighted  a  little  fire,  put  the  kettle  on  to  boil,  anil  set 
the  moose  kidneys,  impaled  on  sharp  sticks,  to  roast  by  the  fire;  and 
with  fresh  kidneys,  good  strong  tea.  |)lenty  of  sugar  and  salt,  and 
some  hard  biscuit.  I  made  one  of  the  most  sumptuous  breakfasts 
it  has  been  my  lot  to  assist  at. 

Breakfast  over,  I  told  i\\v.  Indian  to  go  down  to  camp  and  bring 
up  the  other  men  to  assist  in  cutting  up  and  smoking  the  meat.  .\s 
soon  as  he  had  tieparted.  1  laid  myself  out  for  a  rest.  I  shifteil  nn 
bed — that  is  to  say,  my  heap  of  dried  bracken  antl  pine-tops  —  umler 
the  shadow  of  a  pine.  sj)read  my  blanket  out.  anti  lay  down  to  smoke 
the  pipe  of  peace  in  the  most  contented  frame  of  mind  that  a  man 
can  ever  hope  to  enjoy  in  this  imeasy  anil  troublesome  world.  I 
had  suffered  from  cold  and  from  hunger — I  was  now  warm  and  well 
fed.  I  was  tired  after  a  hard  day's  work  and  long  night's  vigil,  and 
was  thoroughly  capable  of  enjoying  that  greatest  of  all  luxuries  — 
sweet  repose  after  severe  exercise.  I'he  ilay  was  so  warm  that  the 
shade  of  the  trees  fell  cool  and  grateful,  and  I  lay  flat  on  my  back, 
smoking  my  pipe,  and  gazing  up  through  the  branches  into  a  per- 


U 


n 


!       I 


200 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


\ 


I ! 


fectly  clear,  blue  sky,  with  occasionally  a  little  white  cloud  like  a  bit 
of  swan's-down  floating  across  it,  and  felt,  as  I  had  often  felt  before, 
that  no  luxury  of  civilizaiion  can  at  all  compare  with  the  comfort  a 
man  can  obtain  in  the  wilderness.  I  lay  smokinj^  till  I  dropped  off 
to  sleep,  and  slept  soundly  until  the  men,  coming  up  from  camp, 
awoke  me. 

Such  is  a  pretty  fair  sample  of  a  good  ilay's  sport.  It  was  not  a 
very  e.xciting  day,  and  I  have  alluded  to  it  chiefly  because  the  inci- 
dents are  fresh  in  my  mind.  The  great  interest  of  moose-calling 
comes  in  when  a  bull  answers  early  in  the  evening,  and  will  not 
come  up  boldly,  and  you  and  the  bull  spend  the  whole  night  trying 
to  outwit  each  other.  .Sometimes,  just  when  you  think  you  have 
succeeded  in  deceiving  him,  a  little  air  of  wind  will  spring  up ;  he 
will  get  scent  of  you,  and  be  off  in  a  second.  .Sometimes  a  bull  will 
answer  at  intervals  for  several  hours,  will  come  up  to  the  edge  of  the 
open  ground,  and  there  stop  and  cease  speaking.  You  wait,  an.\- 
iously  watching  for  him  all  night,  and  in  the  morning,  when  you 
e.xamine  the  ground,  you  find  that  something  had  scared  him,  and 
that  he  had  silently  made  off,  so  silendy  that  his  departure  was  unno- 
ticed. It  is  marvelous  how  so  great  and  heavy  a  creature  can  move 
through  the  woods  without  making  the  smallest  sound ;  but  he  can 
do  so,  and  does,  to  the  great  confusion  of  the  hunter. 

Sometimes  another  bull  appears  upon  the  scene,  and  a  frightful 
battle  ensues  ;  or  a  cow  will  commence  calling,  and  rob  you  of  your 
prey  ;  or  you  may  get  an  answer  or  two  in  the  (evening,  and  then 
hear  nothing  for  several  hours,  and  go  to  sleep  and  awake  in  the 
morning  to  find  that  the  bull  had  walked  calmly  up  to  within  ten 
yards  of  )ou.  Very  frecjuently  you  may  leave  camp  on  a  jK-rfectly 
clear,  fine  afternoon,  when  suddcnl)-  a  change  will  come  on,  and  you 
may  have  to  jjass  a  long,  dreary  night  on  some  bare  anil  naked  spot 
of  ground,  e.xposed  to  the  pitiless  pelting  of  the  storm.  One.  such 
night  I  well  remember,  last  fall.  It  rained  and  thundered  and  blew 
the  whole  time,  from  about  eight  o'clock,  until  daylight  at  last  gave 
us  a  chance  of  dragging  our  chilled  and  btmumbed  bodies  back  to 
camp.  Fortunately  such  e.xposure,  though  unpleasant,  never  does  any 
one  any  harm  in  the  wilderness. 

Occasionally,  a  moose  will  answer,  but  nothing  will  induce  him  to 
come  up,  and  in  the  morning,  if  there  is  a  little  wind,  you  can  resort 


1^ 


Moose-Hunting  in  Canada. 


20 1 


to  the  only  othf:r  legitimate  way  of  hunting  the  moose,  namely, 
"creeping,"  or  "still  hunting,"  as  it  would  be  termed  in  the  States, 
which  is,  as  nearly  as  possiljle,  e(|uivalent  to  ordinary  tieer-stalking. 

After  the  rutting  season  the  moose  begin  to  "  yard,"  as  it  is 
termed.  I  have  seen  pictures  of  a  moose-yard,  in  which  numbers  of 
animals  are  represented  inside  and  surrounded  by  a  barrier  of  snow, 
on  the  outside  of  which  baffled  packs  of  wolves  are  clamorously 
howling ;  anil  I  have  seen  a  moose-yard  so  described  in  print  as  to 
make  it  appear  that  a  numlter  of  moose  herd  together  and  kec;p 
tramping  and  tramping  in  the  snow  to  such  an  extent  that  by  mid- 
winter they  find  themselves  in  what  is  literally  a  yard — a  hollow, 
bare  place,  surrounded  by  deep  snow.  Of  course,  such  a  definition 
is  utterly  absurd.  A  moose  does  not  travel  straight  on  when  he  is 
in  search  of  food,  but  selects  a  particular  locality,  and  remains  there 
as  long  as  the  supply  of  provisions  holds  out ;  and  that  place  is 
called  a  yard. 

Sometimes  a  solitary  moose  "yards"  alone,  sometimes  two  or 
three  together.  Occasionally,  as  many  as  half  a  dozen  may  be  found 
congregated  in  one  jjlace.  When  a  man  says  he  has  fountl  a 
"moose-yarti,"  he  means  that  he  has  come  across  a  place  when;  it  is 
evident,  from  the  tracks  crossing  and  recrossing  and  intersecting 
each  other  in  all  directions,  and  from  the  signs  of  browsing  on  the 
trees,  that  one  or  more  moose  have  settled  down  to  feed  for  tin- 
winter.  Having  once  selected  a  place  or  "  yard,"  the  moosi;  will 
remain  there  till  the  following  summer,  if  the  food  holds  out  anil  they 
are  not  disturlied  by  man.  If  forced  to  leave  their  "yard,"  they  will 
travel  a  long  distance — twenty  or  thirty  miles — before  choosing 
another  feeding-ground.  After  the  rutting  season,  moosi;  wander 
about  in  an  uneasy  state  of  mind  for  three  weeks  or  so,  and  are  not 
all  settled  down  till  the  beginning  of  November. 

In  "creeping,"  therefore,  or  stalking  moose,  the  first  thing  to  be 
done  is  to  find  a  moose-yard.  Vou  set  out  early  in  the  morning, 
in  any  direction  you  may  think  advisable,  according  to  the  way  the 
wind  blows,  examining  carefully  all  tlu;  tracks  that  )-ou  comi-  across. 
When  you  hit  upon  a  track,  you  follow  it  a  little  way,  examining  it 
and  the  ground  and  trees,  to  see  if  the  animal  is  traveling  or  not.  If 
you  find,  that  the  moose  has  "yarded,"  that  is  to  say,  iKi<\,  and  you 
can  come  across  evidences  of  his  presence  not  more  than  a  couple  of 


ii- 


II 


'I 


Pi 


1  ;l 


Hi 


i 


202 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


n 


iir  . 


r      i 


days  or  so  old,  you  make  up  your  mind  to  hunt  that  particular 
moose. 

The  utmost  caution  and  skill  are  necessary.  The  moose  invari- 
ably travels  down-wind  some  little  distance  before  beginning  to  feed, 
and  then  works  his  way  up,  browsing  about  at  will  in  various  direc- 
tions. He  also  makes  a  circle  down-wind  before  lying  down,  so  that, 
if  you  hit  on  a  fresh  track  and  then  follow  it,  you  are  perfectly  certain 
to  start  the  animal  without  seeing  him.  You  may  follow  a  moose 
track  a  whole  day,  as  I  have  done  before  now,  and  finally  come  across 
the  place  where  you  started  him,  and  then  discover  that  you  had 
passed  within  fifty  yards  of  that  spot  early  in  the  morning,  the 
animal  having  made  a  large  circuit  and  lain  down  close  to  his  tracks. 
The  principle,  tnerefore,  that  the  hunter  has  to  go  upon  is  to  keep 
making  small  semicircles  down-wind,  so  as  to  constantly  cut  the 
tracks  and  yet  keep  the  animal  always  to  windward  of  him.  Hav- 
ing come  across  a  track  and  made  up  your  mind  whether  it  is  pretty 
fresh,  whether  the  beast  is  a  large  one  worth  following,  and  whether 
it  is  settled  down  and  feeding  cjuietly,  you  will  not  follow  the  track, 
but  go  down-wind  and  then  gradually  work  up-wind  again  till  you 
cut  the  tracks  a  second  time.  Then  you  must  make  out  whether 
the  tracks  are  fresher  or  older  than  the  former  whether  they  are 
tracks  of  the  same  moose  or  those  of  another,  and  leave  them  again 
and  work  up,  and  cut  them  a  third  time  ;  and  so  you  go  on  gradually, 
always  trimming  down-wind  and  edging  up-wind  again,  until,  finally, 
you  have  quartered  the  whole  ground. 

Perhaps  the  moose  is  feeding  upon  a  hard-wood  ridge  of  beech 
and  maples  of,  say,  two  or  three  miles  in  length  and  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  in  width.  Every  scjuare  yard  you  must  make  good,  in  the  way 
I  have  endeavored  to  describe,  before  you  proceed  to  go  up  to  the 
moose.  At  length,  by  dint  of  great  perseverance  and  caution,  you 
will  have  so  far  covered  the  ground  that  you  will  know  the  animal 
must  be  in  some  particular  spot.  Then  comes  the  difficult  moment. 
I  may  say  at  once  that  it  is  mere  waste  of  time  trying  to  creep  except 
on  a  windy  day,  even  with  moccasins  on ;  and  it  is  of  no  use  at  any  time 
trying  to  creep  a  moose  unless  you  are  provided  with  soft  leather  moc- 
casins. No  human  being  can  get  within  shot  of  a  moose  on  a  still  day; 
the  best  time  is  when  windy  weather  succeeds  a  heavy  fall  of  rain. 
Then  the  ground  is  soft,  the  little  twigs  strewed  about  bend  instead 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


203 


of  breaking,  and  the  noise  of  the  wind  in  the  trees  deadens  the  sound 
of  your  footsteps.  If  the  ground  is  dry,  and  there  is  not  much  wind, 
it  is  impossible  to  get  near  the  game.  When  you  have  determined 
that  the  moose  is  somewhere  handy, —  when  you  come  across  per- 
fectly fresh  indications  of  his  presence, — you  proceed  inch  by  inch  ; 
you  must  not  make  the  smallest  noise  ;  the  least  crack  <.)f  a  dead 
branch  or  of  a  stick  under  foot  will  start  the  animal.  Especially  care- 
ful must  you  be  that  nothing  taps  against  your  gun-stock,  or  that  you 
do  not  strike  the  barrel  against  a  tree,  for,  naturally,  any  such  unusual 
sound  is  far  worse  than  the  cracking  of  a  stick.  If,  however,  you  suc- 
ceed in  imitating  the  noiseless  movements  and  footsteps  of  your 
Indian,  you  will  probably  be  rewarded  by  seeing  him  presently  make 
a  "  point "  like  a  pointer  dog.  Every  quivering  fil)er  in  his  body 
proves  his  excitement.  He  will  point  out  something  dark  to  you 
among  the  trees.  That  dark  mass  is  a  moose,  and  you  must  fire  at  it, 
without  being  too  careful  what  part  of  the  animal  you  are  going  to 
hit,  for  probably  the  moose  has  heard  you,  and  is  only  waiting  a 
second  before  making  up  his  mind  to  be  off. 

Generally  speaking,  the  second  man  sees  the  moose  first.  The 
leader  is  too  much  occupied  in  looking  at  the  tracks — in  seeing 
where  he  is  going  to  put  his  foot  down.  The  second  man  has  only 
to  tread  carefully  in  the  footsteps  of  the  man  preceding  him,  and  is 
able  to  concentrate  his  attention  more  on  looking  about.  The 
moment  you  spy  or  hear  the  animal,  you  should  imitate  the  call  of  a 
moose, —  first,  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  animal,  which,  if  it  has 
not  smelt  you,  will  probably  stop  a  second  to  make  sure  what  it 
is  that  has  frightened  him  ;  secondly,  to  let  the  Indian  in  front  know 
that  the  game  is  on  foot.  Moose-creeping  is  an  e.xceedingly  diffi- 
cult and  exciting  pastime.  It  requires  all  a  man's  patience,  for,  of 
course,  you  may  travel  day  after  day  in  this  way  without  finding  any 
traces  of  deer.  To  the  novice  it  is  not  interesting,  for,  appar- 
ently, the  Indian  wanders  aimlessly  about  the  woods  without  any 
particular  object.  When  you  come  to  understand  the  motive  for 
every  twist  and  turn  he  makes,  and  appreciate  the  science  h»-  is  dis- 
playing, it  becomes  one  of  the  most  fascinating  pursuits  in  which 
the  s|)ortsman  can  indulge.  .Sometimes  ont-  may  be  in  good  luck 
and  come  across  a  moose  in  some  glade  or  "  interval,"  the  result  of 
the  labors  of  former  generations  of  beavers.     An  "  interval  "  is  the 


1  I  hi! 


I  (' 


I  ^r 


204 


Moose-Hniitiiig  in  Canada. 


local  term  for  natural  meadows,  which  are  frequently  found  along 
the  margins  of  streams.  Heavers  have  done  great  and  useful  work 
in  all  these  countries.  The  evidences  of  their  labors  have  far  out- 
lived the  work  of  aboriginal  man.  They  dam  up  little  streams  and 
form  shallow  lakes  and  ponds.  Trees  fall  in  and  decay  ;  the  ponds 
get  choked  with  vegetation,  fill  up,  and  are  turned  into  natural 
meadows  of  great  value  to  the  settler.  Beavers  have  played  an 
important  part  in  rendering  these  savage  countries  fit  for  the  habita- 
tion of  civilized  man. 

The  moose  may  also  be  run  down  in  winter-time  on  snow-shoes. 
This  may  be  called  partly  a  legitimate,  and  partly  an  illegitimate, 
mode  of  killing  the  animal.  If  the  snow  is  not  very  deep,  the  moose 
can  travel,  and  to  come  up  with  him  requires  immense  endurance  on 
the  part  of  a  man,  but  no  skill  except  that  involved  in  the  art  of  run- 
ning on  snow-shoes.  You  simply  start  the  animal  and  follow  after 
him  for  a  day,  or  sometimes  two  or  three  days,  when  you  come  up 
with  him  and  walk  as  close  as  you  like  and  shoot  him. 

If  the  snow  lies  very  deep  in  early  spring,  moose  may  be  slaugh- 
tered with  ease.  The  sun  thaws  the  surface,  which  freezes  up  again 
at  night  and  forms  an  icy  crust  strong  enough  to  support  a  man  on 
snow-shoes,  or  a  dog,  but  not  nearly  strong  enough  to  support  a 
moose.  Then  they  can  be  run  down  without  trouble.  You  find 
your  moose  and  start  a  dog  after  him.  The  unfortunate  moose 
flounders  helplessly  in  the  snow,  cutting  his  legs  to  pieces,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  becomes  exhausted,  and  you  can  walk  up  to  him, 
knock  him  on  the  head  with  an  ax,  or  stick  him  with  a  knife,  as  you 
think  best.  Hundreds  and  hundreds  of  moose  have  been  slaughtered 
in  this  scandalous  manner  for  their  hides  alone.  The  .settlers  also 
dig  pits  for  them  and  snare  them,  both  of  which  practices,  1  need 
hardly  say,  are  most  nefarious.  There  is  nothing  sportsmanlike 
about  them,  and  they  involve  waste  of  good  meat,  because,  unless 
a  man  looks  to  the  snare  every  day  (which  these  men  never  do),  he 
runs  the  chance  of  catching  a  moose  and  finding  the  carcass  unfit 
for  food  when  he  revisits  the  place.  1  shall  not  describe  the  method 
of  snaring  a  moose,  for  fear  some  reader  who  has  followed  me  thus 
far  might  be  tempted  to  practice  it,  or  lest  it  might  be  supposed  for  a 
moment  that  I  had  ever  done  such  a  wicked  thing  myself 


Moosc-Hitnting  in  Canada. 


205 


s 
a 


Many  men  prefer  caribou-hunting  to  moose-hunting,  and  I  am 
not  sure  that  they  are  not  right.  The  American  caribou  is.  I  beUeve, 
identical  with  the  reindeer  of  Europe,  though  the  American  animal 
grows  to  a  much  larger  size  and  the  males  carry  far  finer  horns.  The 
does  have  small  horns  also.  1  believe  the  caribou  is  the  only  species 
of  deer  marked  by  that  peculiarity.  Caribou  are  very  fond  of  getting 
out  on  the  lakes  as  soon  as  the  ice  will  bear,  and  feeding  round  the 
shores.  They  feed  entirely  on  moss  and  lichens,  principally  on  the 
long  gray  moss,  locally  known  as  "old  men's  beards,"  which  hangs 
in  graceful  festoons  from  the  branches  of  the  pines,  and  on  the 
beautiful  purple  and  cream-colored  caribou  moss  that  covers  the 
barrens.  They  are  not  very  shy  animals,  and  will  venture  close  to" 
lumber  camps  to  feed  on  the  moss  which  grows  most  luxuriantly  on 
the  tops  of  the  pines  which  the  ax-men  have  felled.  Caribou  cannot 
be  run  down,  and  the  settlers  rarely  go  after  them.  They  must  be 
stalked  on  the  barrens  and  lakes,  or  crept  up  to  in  the  woods,  precisely' 
in  the  same  manner  as  the  moose. 

Such  is  a  brief  outline  of  some  Canadian  sports.  Life  in  the 
woods  need  not  be  devoted  entirely  to  hunting,  but  can  be  varied 
to  a  great  extent  by  fishing  and  trapping.  The  streams  and  lakes 
teem  with  trout,  and  the  finest  salmon-fishing  in  the  world  is  to  be 
found  in  New  Brunswick  and  on  the  north  shore  of  the  gulf  In 
Lower  Canada  there  is  still  a  good  deal  of  fur  to  be  found.  In  New 
Brunswick  and  Nova  Scotia  beavers  are  almost  extinct,  and  marten, 
mink,  lynx,  otter,  and  other  valuable  fur-bearing  animals  are  com- 
paratively scarce.  It  would  be  hard,  I  think,  for  a  man  to  spend  a 
holiday  more  pleasantly  and  beneficially  than  in  the  Canadian  woods. 
Hunting  leads  him  into  beautiful  scenery;  his  method  of  life  induces 
a  due  contemplation  of  nature  and  tends  to  wholesome  thought.  Me 
has  not  much  opportunity  for  improving  liis  mind  with  lite>-ature,  but 
he  can  n.'ad  out  of  the  great  book  of  nature,  ami  find  "  books  in  the 
running  brooks,  sermons  in  stones,  and  good  in  everything."  If  he 
has  his  eyes  and  ears  open,  he  cannot  fail  to  take  notice  of  many 
interesting  circumstances  and  phenomena  ;  and  if  he  has  any  knowl- 
edge of  natural  history,  every  moment  of  th(;  ilay  nuist  be  suggesting 
something  new  and  interesting  to  him.  A  strange  scene,  for  ex- 
ample,  which    came    within    my   observation   last    year,    completely 


!     •       !'l 


na 


1  >i 


:^' 


1 

1 

1 

■} 

3 1 

t- 

■ 


I*  £ ' ' 


'i:\ 


■I 

1' 

f 

1 

1! 

"l 

2o6 


Moose -Hunting  in  Canada. 


puzzled  mc  at  the  time  ami  lias  done  so  ever  sinct.-.  I  was  in  Nova 
Scotia  in  tlie  fall,  when  one  tlay  my  Indian  told  me  that  in  a  lake 
close  by  all  the  rocks  were  moving  out  of  the  water,  a  circumstance 
which  I  thoujrht  not  a  little  strange.  However,  I  went  to  look  at 
the  unheard-of  spectacle,  anil  sure  enouj^h  there  were  the  rocks 
apparently  all  movinjj^  out  of  the  water  on  to  dry  land.  The  lake  is 
of  considerable  e.xtent,  but  shallow,  and  full  of  j,freat  masses  of  rock. 
Many  of  these  masses  appear  to  have  traveled  right  out  of  the  lake, 
and  are  now  high  and  dry  some  fifteen  yards  above  the  margin  of 
the  water.  They  have  plowed  deep  and  regularly  defined  chan- 
nels for  themselves.  You  may  see  them  of  all  sizes,  from  blocks  of, 
say,  roughly  speaking,  six  or  eight  feet  in  diameter,  down  to  stones 
which  a  man  ct)uld  lift.  Moreover,  you  find  them  in  various  stages 
of  progress:  some  a  hundred  yards  or  more  from  shore,  and  appar- 
ently just  beginning  to  move ;  others  half  way  to  their  de.stination, 
and  others,  again,  as  I  have  said,  high  and  dry  above  the  water. 
In  all  cases  there  is  a  distinct  groove  or  fiirrow  which  the  rock 
has  clearly  plowed  for  itself.  1  noticed  one  particularly  good 
specimen,  an  enormous  block,  which  lay  some  yards  above  high- 
water  mark.  The  earth  and  stones  were  heaped  up  in  front  of  it  to 
a  height  of  three  or  four  feet.  There  was  a  deep  furrow,  the  exact 
breadth  of  the  block,  leading  down  directly  from  it  intt)  the  lake, 
and  extending  till  it  was  hidden  from  my  sight  by  the  depth  of  the 
water.  Loose  stones  and  pebbles  were  piled  up  on  f  .ch  side  of  this 
groove  in  a  regular  clearly  defined  line.  I  thought  at  first  that, 
from  some  cause  or  other,  the  smaller  stones,  pebbles,  and  sand  had 
been  dragged  down  from  above,  and  consecjuently  had  piled  them- 
selves up  in  front  of  all  the  large  rocks  too  heavy  to  be  moved,  and 
had  left  a  vacant  space  or  furrow  behind  the  rocks.  Hut  if  that  had 
been  the  case,  the  drift  of  moving  material  would  of  course  have 
joined  together  again  in  the  space  of  a  few  yards  behinil  the  fixed 
rocks.  On  the  contrary,  these  grooves  or  furrows  remained  the 
same  width  throughout  their  entire  length,  and  have,  I  think, 
undoubtedly  been  caused  by  the  rock  forcing  its  way  up  through  the 
loose  shingle  and  stones  which  compose  the  bed  of  the  lake.  What 
power  has  set  these  rocks  in  motion  it  is  difficult  to  decide.  The 
action  of  ice  is  the  only  thing  that  might  explain  it ;  but  how  ice 
coidd  exert  itself  in  that  special  manner,  and  why,  if  ice  is  the  cause 


' 


Moose- Hunting  in  Canada. 


207 


of  it,  it  docs  not  manifest  that  tendency  in  every  lake  in  every  part 
of  the  world,  I  do  not  pretend  to  comprehend. 

My  attention  having;  been  once  directed  to  this,  I  noticed  it  in 
various  other  lakes.  Unfortunately,  my  Indian  only  mentioned  it  to 
me  a  day  or  two  before  I  left  the  woods.  1  had  not  time,  tlu'refore, 
to  make  any  investigation  into  the  subject.  Possibly  some  of  my 
readers  may  be  able  to  account  for  this,  to  me,  extraordinary 
phenomenon. 

Even  from  the  point  of  view  of  a  traveler  who  cares  not  for  field 
sports,  Nova  Scotia  and  New  Brunswick,  and,  in  fact,  all  Canada,  is 
a  country  full  of  interest.  It  is  interesting^  for  many  reasons  which  I 
have  not  space  to  enter  into  now,  but  especially  so  as  showinij;  the 
development  of  what,  in  future,  will  be  a  great  nation.  For  whether 
in  connection  with  this  country,  or  as  independent,  or  as  joined  to 
the  United  States,  or  any  portion  of  them,  that  vast  region  which  is 
now  called  British  North  America  will  assuredly  some  day  sujjport 
the  strongest,  most  j)owerful,  and  most  masterful  population  on  the 
continent  of  America. 


■  f  l,     I 


CAklHor-HL'NTINC. 


m   CHARl.KS    V.  WARD. 


I     ; 


vjmn 


I  ii 


To  determine  accurately  the  geographical  distribution  of  an 
animal  of  such  wandering  habits  as  the  caribou,  or  American 
reindeer  ( Ccrvtis  laraiidiis — Linn.;  Rangifer  Caribou — Au- 
dubon and  Hachman),  is  extremely  difficult.  Kvery  few  years  make 
a  change.  One  year  finds  the  species  receding  from  haunts  pre- 
viously occupied  and  encroaching  upon  grounds  hitherto  unfre- 
quented ;  and  in  some  districts,  from  various  causes,  we  find  them 
exterminated. 

I  may  say,  however,  that  the  caribou  largely  inhabits  Labrador 
and  Newfoundland,  still  exi.sts  in  considerable  numbers  in  the  prov- 
ince of  New  Brun  wick,  in  the  wilderness  regions  of  tiie  Resti- 
gouche,  in  the  country  watered  by  the  upper  south-west  branch  of  the 
Miramichi,  also  on  Cairns  River — another  branch  of  the  Miramichi. 
He  is  also  abundant  at  the  head-waters  of  Green  River,  in  the  county 
of  Madawaska.  In  Oueens  County,  he  is  found  at  head  of  Cirand 
Lake,  Salmon  River.  In  Kent  County,  he  is  again  met  with  on  the 
Kishanaguak  and  Kishanaguaksis,  also  frequently  on  the  Hathurst 
road,  between  Hathurst  and  Chatham.  A  few  years  ago.  the  animals 
were  quite  numerous  in  Charlotte  County,  and  are  still  occasionally 
met  with.  In  the  adjoining  province  of  Nova  .Scotia  their  nunil)ers 
are  gradually  decreasing,  their  strongholds  at  present  being  confined 
to  the  Cobequid  Mountains  and  the  uplands  of  Cape  Hreton.  (ioing 
westward  and  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  caribou  is  again  met 
with  in  Rimouski,  his  haunts  extending  southward  along  the  borders 
of  the  .State  of  Maine  and  the  country  south  of  the  city  of  Quebec 
to  New   Hampshire.     The  moose  is  found  with  him  all  through  this 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


209 


CAKIIIOL     IIAKKENS. 


district,  and  also  the  Virginia  deer  in  its  southern  part.  North  of 
the  Ottawa  and  St.  Lawrence,  the  caribou  ranges  all  through  the 
vast  forest  regions  as  far  as  the  southern  limits  of  Hudson's  Hay,  and 
is  abundant  in  the  north-west  territories,  as  far  as  the  McKenzie 
River,  and  is  also  founil  inhabiting  the  high  lands  of  liritish 
Columbia. 

In  the  State  of  Maine  they  are  met  with  in  tolerable  abundance, 
and  if  the  existing  game-laws  are  strictly  enforced,  we  may  hope 
that  their  numbers  will  not  be  diminished.  In  the  wilderness  tracts 
of  that  State  there  are  vast  stretches  of  barrens,  amply  provided  with 
the  reindeer  lichen  and  interspersed  with  innumerable  lakes  and 
uplands,  constituting  a  country  admirably  adapted  to  the  habits  of 
the  caribou.  It  has  been  said  that  the  caribou  extends  along  the 
border  west  of  Lake  Superior  to  the  Pacific  ;  but,  as  late  as  1H74,  none 
were  found  along  the  border  of  Dakota  and  Montana.  If  the  species 
reaches  the  woodeil  region  at  and  west  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  its 
presence  does  not  seem  to  be  well  attested.  It  is,  however,  said  to 
occur  in  Washington  Territory,  but  I  may  add  that  a  conifjetent 
authority  doubts  the  existence  of  the  caribou  in  the  United  States 
west  of  the  Red  River  of  the  North.  Within  the-  last  year,  the 
presence  of  the  caribou  in  Minnesota  and  Wisconsin  has  been 
authenticated. 

The  prevailing  color  of  the  caribou  is  a  dark  fawn  inclining  to 
gray,  darkest  at  the  tips  of  the  hairs,  on  the  sides,  ears,  face,  and 
14 


I'i'ii 


p 

r 

1 1 

' 

2IO 


Caribou -limiting. 


oiitsitlc  of  tlu;  Kijj^s.  anil  failin;,'  to  almost  pure  white  on  the  neck 
anil  throat.  Thr  iiiuUt  part  of  the  hoily  ami  tail  is  whitf.  anil  a  rinjj 
of  whili;  iMicircIrs  tlu-  Ii'IlJs  just  ahovi:  tlu;  hoof.  Sonii:  spi-cinu-ns 
havo  a  li!.,^ht  spot  on  thi;  shoiildi-rs  ami  a  black  patch  on  the  mouth. 
It  is  not  uncommon  to  fuul  ajfrd  ami  full-j^rown  animals  ailorncil 
with  ;\  llowinj^f  maiu-.  which  ailtis  j^rcatly  to  the  j^race  ami  beauty  of 
their  appearance.  In  miilwinter  I  have  noticed  departures  from  the 
above  description,  the  coats  of  some  animals  inclinin^^  more  to  lijjjht 
jjray  ;  and  in  others,  one  half  of  the  body  was  very  li},dit  .i^ray,  and  the 
other  lialf  much  darker.  In  particular,  I  remember  havinjj^  killed  a 
doe  of  e.xtraordinary  size  and  beauty  of  form,  whose  j^eneral  color 
was  an  exceedinj^ly  rich  dark  brown,  and  entirely  different  from  that 
of  any  other  caribou  in  the  henl. 

The  heads  and  antlers  of  the  caribou  present  much  iliversity  of 
form,  and  seldom  are  any  two  found  alike.  In  the  same  herd,  I  have 
seen  heads  very  like  that  of  ajtwo-year-old  colt ;  then,  aj^ain,  others 
had  pronoimced  Roman  noses,  the  whole  head  appearing  much 
longer.  In  some  instances,  the  palmation  extends  throughout  the 
horns ;  while  in  others,  such  as  the  Labrador  caribou,  it  is  often  con- 
fined to  the  tines  at  the  top  of  the  horn,  the  main  stem  being  nearly 
round.  Again,  wc  find  in  the  caribou  inhabiting  Newfoundland 
horns  of  very  great  size,  perfect  in  palmation,  and  in  many  cases 
having  both  brow  antlers  develojied. 

The  construction  of  the  caribou's 
hoof  differs  from  that  of  any  other 
animal  of  the  deer  tribe,  and  is  won- 
derfully adapted  to  the  services  it  is 
re(|uired  to  perform,  anil  enables  the 
animal  to  travel  in  deep  snows,  over 
frozen  lakes  and  icy  crusts,  when  the 
moose  and  deer  are  confined  to  their 
yards  and  at  the  mercy  of  their  foes, 
Towanl  the  enil  of  the  season,  the 
frog  begins  to  be  absorbed,  and  in 
the  month  of  December  is  entirely 
so ;  at  the  same  time,  the  hoof  ex- 
pamls  and  becomes  concave,  with 
sharp  and  very  hard,  shell-like  edges. 


WllOUI.ANO    (  AKIHOU    HOnl'S. 


f 


Caribou  -  Hun  ting. 


21  I 


The  hoof  fijfiircil  in  this  ptipcr  is  drawn  Iron)  natiiri;,  and 
measures  foiirtet-n  inches  in  circumference,  five  inches  in  ilianieter, 
ami  has  a  lateral  spread  of  ten  inches.  A  full-j^rown  caribou  stands 
nearly  five  feet  at  tlie  shoulder,  and  weij^dis  from  four  hundred  to 
lour  hundred  anil  fifty  poimds. 

The  animal  is  very  compact  in  form,  possessed  of  jjreat  speed 
anil  endurance,  and  is  a  very  Ishmaelite  in  its  wanderinj^  hal)its; 
chanjrinj;,  as  the  pest  of  flies  draws  near,  from  the  low-lying  swamps 
and  woods  where  its  principal  article  of  diet,  the  L'ladoti'ux  ruiixi- 
fcrina,  or  reindeer  lichen,  abounds,  to  the  hij^hest  mountain  fast- 
nesses:  then  aj^ain,  when  the  cold  niirhts  j^ive  warninjf  of  thechanj^ing 
season,  descendinjf  to  the  plains. 

The  rutting  season  begins  early  in  the  month  of  September :  the 
antlers  then  have  attained  their  full  growth,  an!  the  animals  engage 
in  fierce  conflicts,  similar  to  those  inilulgeil  in  by  the  moose,  and 
freipiently  with  as  tragic  an  ending.  The  does  bring  forth  one,  and 
sometimes  two  fawns  in  the  month  of  Ma\  ;  and  bucks,  does,  and  the 
young  herd  together  in  numbers  varying  from  nine  or  ten  individ- 
uals to  several  hundreds. 

Horns  are  common  to  both  .se.xes,  but  the  horns  of  the  bucks  are 
seldom  carried  later  than  the  month  of  December,  while  the  does 
carry  theirs  all  winter,  and  use  them  to  defend  the  fawns  against  the 
attacks  of  the  bucks.  Both  sexes  use  their  hoofs  to  clear  away  the 
snow  in  searching  for  mosses  on  the  barrens.  In  their  biennial 
migrations,  they  form  well-defihed  tracks  or  paths,  along  which  the 
herds  travi^l  in  Indian  file.  I  have  often  studied  their  habits  on  the 
extensive  caribou  barrens  between  New  River  and  the  head  of  Lake 
I'topia,  in  Charlotte  County,  New  Brunswick.  These  barrens  are 
ai)ont  si.xteen  miles  in  e.xtent,  and  marked  with  well-defined  trails, 
over  which  the  animals  were  constantly  passing  and  repassing,  here 
and  there  spending  a  day  where  the  lichens  afforded  good  living, 
then  away  again  on  their  never-ending  wanderings. 

A  friend  of  mine,  who  visited  Newfoundland  on  an  exploring 
expedition,  informs  me  that  there  the  caribou  holds  almost  exclusive 
domain  over  an  unbroken  wilderness  of  nearly  thirty  thousand  scpiare 
miles,  in  a  country  wonderfully  adapted  to  his  habits,  and  bountifully 
supplied  with  his  favorite  food  —  the  reindeer  lichen. 

The  caribou  is  possessed  of  much  curiosity,  and  does  not  readily 


M 


"•fl 


ifi 


■ilKil 


'T 


212 


Caribou -Hunting. 


k^ ' "        "   '  ^ 


(  ARinol'     MIl^KATING. 


take  alarm  at  what  he  sees.  Where  his  haunts  have  been  unmo- 
lested, he  will  unconcernedly  trot  up  within  range  of  the  rifle.  I  am 
inclined  to  believe  that  a  great  deal  of  this  apparent  fearlessness  is 
due  to  defective  vision.  If  this  is  so,  he  is  compensated  by  having  a 
marvelous  gift  of  scent,  quite  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  that  of  the 
moose.  And  well  for  the  caribou  that  he  is  thus  gifted.  The  wolf 
follows  the  herds  throughout  all  their  wanderings.  On  the  plains  or 
on  the  hills,  where  the  poor  caribou  retire  to  rear  their  yoimg,  he  is 
constantly  lurking  near,  ready  to  pounce  on  any  straggler,  or — if  in 
sufficient  numbers  —  to  boldly  attack  the  herd. 

The  woodland  caribou  is  very  swift,  and  cunning  in  devices  to 
escape  his  pursuers.  His  gait  is  a  long,  swinging  trot,  which  he  per- 
forms with  his  head  erect  and  scut  up ;  and  there  is  no  animal  of  the 


;  1 


CariboH  -Hunting. 


213 


m 


ATTArKK.Il    HY    A    WOI.K. 


deer  tribe  that  affords  better  sport  or  more  delicious  food  when  ca|)t- 
ured.  The  wandering  habits  of  the  caribou  make  it  very  uncertain 
where  one  will  fall  in  with  him,  even  in  his  accustomed  and  well- 
known  haunts.  When  once  started,  the  chase  is  sure  to  be  a  long 
one  and  its  results  doubtful ;  in  fact,  so  much  so  that  an  old  hunter 
seldom  follows  up  a  retreating  herd,  but  resorts  to  strategy  and  tries 
to  head  them  off,  or  at  once  proceeds  by  the  shortest  way  tt)  some 
other  barren  in  hopes  of  finding  them  there. 

It  seems  to  be  a  mooted  cjuestion  whether  the  barren-ground 
caribou  ( R.  Grandandicus )  found  inhabiting  the  Arctic  regions  and 
shores  of  Hudson's  Hay  is  another  species,  or  only  a  variety  of  the 
woodland  caribou.  The  barren-ground  caribou  is  a  much  smaller 
animal,  and  seldom  exceeds  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  weight, 
while  large  specimens  of  the  woodland  caribou  weigh  nearly  fi\e 
hundred  pounds. 

The  caribou  is  very  fond  of  the  water,  is  a  capital  swimmer,  and  in 
jumping  he  is  more  than  the  equal  of  any  other  deer.  His  advent- 
14A 


;y 


J 

Hi 

• 

214 


Cnnbou  -Hunting. 


AFLOAT    ON    A    CAKE    OF    ICE. 


uroiis  disposition,  no  doubt,  in  some  degree  influences  the  geograph- 
ical distribution  of  the  species.  In  the  month  of  December,  1877, 
a  caribou  was  discovered  floating  out  to  sea  on  a  cake  of  ice  near 
Dalhousie,  on  the  Restigouche  River  in  New  Brunswick,  and  was 
captured  alive  by  some  men  who  put  off  to  him  in  a  boat. 

It  is  said  that,  in  very  severe  seasons,  largt?  numbers  of  caribou 
cross  from  Labrador  to  Newfoundland  on  the  ice.  His  admirably 
constructed  hoof,  with  its  sharp,  shell-like,  cutting  edges,  enables 
him  to  cross  the  icy  floes  ;  when  traveling  in  deep  snow,  its  lateral 
expansion  prevents  him  from  sinking. 

At  one  time  the  Indians  were  as  great  adepts  at  calling  the  wood- 
land caribou  as  they  are  in  the  present  day  in  deluding  the  moose. 
My  Indian  friend  Sebatis  is  the  only  Indian  1  know  who  can  imitate 
the  calls  of  the  caribou,  and  he  has  for  a  long  time  given  up  this 
manner  of  hunting.  He  informs  me  that,  from  being  so  much  hunted 
and  molested  in  their  haunts,  the  caribou  have  become  much  more 
timid  and  wary  even  during  the  rutting  season,  and  also  seem  to  be 
much  more  critical  of  the  sounds  produceil  by  the  birch-bark  call, 
and  consequently  very  seldom  respond  thereto. 

The  cjuiet  gray  color  of  the  caribou  is  well  ailapted  to  conceal  his 
presence  from  the  hunter,  and  it  requires  an  educated  eye  to  pick  out 
his  form  on  the  heathv  barren,  where  evervthing  assimilates  to  him 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


215 


in  color;  and,  were  it  not  for  occasional  effects  of  light  disclosing  his 
position,  the  hunter  might  frequently  pass  within  easy  shot  without 
seeing  him.  The  Indians  are  so  well  aware  of  this  that  they  always 
approach  a  barren  with  extreme  caution,  always  traveling  down 
wind,  and  never  disconcerted  if  game  is  not  sighted  at  once.  Nor  is 
the  case  improved  when  one  comes  to  hunt  for  them  in  the  forest ; 
there,  the  gray  tree-trunks  and  tangled  undergrowth  make  it  ex- 
tremely difficult  to  see  them. 


CARIBiJlJ    (.ROSSINO    A    IKOZKN    I.AKK. 


The  caribou,  whatever  may  be  his  need  for  haste,  seldom  bounds 
or  gallops,  except  for  a  few  jumps  when  first  he  spies  his  enemy,  but 
drops  into  his  accustomed  trot,  which  carries  him  over  the  ground 
with  great  rapidity,  anil  then,  no  matter  how  old  a  hand  the  hunter 
ma\- be,  nothing  but  the  admirable  skill  in  venery  of  his  Indian  guide 
will  afford  him  the  sliglitest  chance  of  coming  up  with  the  game  again. 

The  indiffi.-rence  or  curiosit\-  with  regard  to  the  nf)ise  of  fire-arms 
exhibited  by  the  caribou  often  stands  the  hunter  in  good  stead  and 
affortis  him  a  chance  for  a  second  shot,  should  his  first  prove  ineffect 
ual ;  for  it  is  not  uncommon  for  a  herd  to  stantl  stock-still  on  hearing 
the  report  of  a  gun,  even  when  one  of  their  number  has  fallcMi  a 
victim  thereto.  The  pause  is  but  lor  an  instant,  and  the  hunter  must 
be  (juick  to  take  advantage  of  it,  or  his  chance  will  be  gone  before 
he  is  aware  of  it ;  for,  recovering  (juickly  from  the  shock,  or  alarm, 
or  whatever  it  may  be,  the  herd  will  dash  off  at  a  rattling  pace. 


Pi 


I  111 


i  W 


%i[ 


'■\        i 


ml 


216 


Canbou  -Hunting. 


A  caribou,  if  not  mortally  wounded,  will  endeavor  to  keep  up 
with  the  herd,  and  will  travel  a  long  way  without  giving  out.  If 
near  the  sea-coast,  the  wounded  animal  seeks  it  to  die,  and  so  is 
often  found  by  the  hunter.  In  such  cases  the  skill  of  the  Indian 
again  comes  in  play,  and  he  will  follow  the  track  of  the  wounded 
animal,  readily  picking  it  out  from  all  the  others,  and  seldom  failing 
to  run  it  down.  The  Indians  say  that  the  caribou  likes  to  feed  on 
sea-weed,  and  goes  to  the  coast  in  the  spring  and  fall  of  the  year 
for  that  purpose. 

Once  upon  a  time,  not  .so  long  ago  as  when  "little  birds  built 
their  nests  in  old  men's  beards,"  but  quite  long  enough  to  make  one 
regret  the  days  when  caribou  were  plenty  on  all  the  barrens  in 
Charlotte  County,  New  Brunswick,  the  writer,  in  company  with  his 
Indian  friend  Sebatis  and  an  old  Indian  named  Tomah,  traveled  all 
day  in  pursuit  of  a  herd  of  caribou,  and  after  losing  much  time  lying 
in  ambush,  behind  a  big  bowlder,  were  suddenly  overtaken  by  night- 
fall, which,  in  the  short  November  days,  shuts  down  without  warning, 

"  How  far  to  camp,  Sebatis  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Well,  s'pose  daylight,  about  five  miles ;  but  so  dark  now,  you 
see,  makes  it  good  deal  further." 

"  Can  you  find  the  camp  ?  " 

"  Find  'im  camp  ?  Sartin ;  but  take  good  while,  so  dark,  can't 
see  nothin"t  all ;  tumble  down  good  deal,  you  see,  so  many  win'falls; 
then  may  be  get  in  swamp  besides." 

Had  daylight  given  us  the  opportunity  of  selecting  a  camping- 
place,  we  could  not  have  found  a  spot  better  suited  to  our  purpose 
than  the  grove  of  grand  old  firs  and  hemlocks  that  hemmed  us  in  on 
every  side  and  sheltered  us  with  broad,  spreading  branches.  In  front 
we  had  a  forest  lake ;  on  the  outskirts  of  our  stronghold  a  plentifiil 
supply  of  hard  wood  stood  ready  for  the  axe  which  Tomah  was  just 
releasing  from  its  cover  of  leather. 

The  darkness  and  silence  of  these  old  woods  were  appalling,  and 
as  I  stood  leaning  on  the  old  tree  against  which  we  had  stacked 
our  rifles,  I  gladly  welcomed  the  quick  strokes  of  Tomah's  axe,  that 
was  already  dealing  death-blows  to  the  birches  and  maples. 

Sebatis  had  gone  off  in  search  of  dry  wood  to  start  the  fire.  I 
had  not  heard  him  return,  and  was  watching  a  curious  object  moving 
about  in  the  gloom  with  something  like  the  actions  of  a  bear.     Pres- 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


217 


ently  it  stopped,  and  seemed  to  be  squatting  on  its  haunches ;  then 
there  came  a  curious,  crackHng  sound,  like  the  crunching  of  bones  ; 
then  a  faint  light,  gradually  increasing  in  brightness  and  volume 
until  the  surroundings  began  to  take  form,  and  long  shadows  crept 
stealthily  past  me,  and  the  object  which  I  had  mistaken  for  a  bear 
arose  upon  his  legs,  and  quietly  observed  : 

"  Pretty  good  fire  by-em-by,  when  Tomah  fetch  dry  hard  wood  ;" 
then  tramped  off  to  assist  Tomah  in  carrying  in  the  fire- wood. 

"Now,  then,  best  cook  supper  first,"  said  Sebatis ;  "then  make 
'im  bough  bend ;  too  hungry  now." 

"  All  right,  Sebatis ;  but  how  are  you  going  to  boil  the  water  for 
the  tea?" 

"Well,  sartin.  we  don't  have  no  kettle;  have  boil  'im  water  in 
birch  bark  ;  make  kin'  of  box,  you  see." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  can  do  it." 

"  You  don't  'lieve  it?  Well,  by  t'unders,  I  show  you  pretty  quick, 
when  Tomah  fetch  bark." 

And  show  me  he  did ;  and  better  tea  I  never  tasted  than  that 
brewed  by  Sebatis  in  his  kettle  of  birch  bark,  and  served  in  little 
cups  of  the  same  material,  deftly  fashioned  by  Tomah. 

The  frosts  of  winter  had  not  yet  sealed  the  forest  lakes,  and  the 
night  was  unusually  mild, — so  much  so,  indeed,  that  Sebatis  pre- 
dicted a  sudden  change  ere  long. 

During  the  lulls  in  the  talk,  I  fancied  that  I  heard  the  notes  of  a 
bird,  but  did  not  allude  to  it,  as  the  sound  might  have  been  caused 
by  steam  escaping  from  one  of  the  huge  logs  piled  on  the  fire. 

"Just  so  I  told  you,"  remarked  Sebatis,  as  he  arose  to  get  a  light 
for  his  pipe,  "  big  snow-storm  comin'." 

"Why  do  you  think  so,  Sebatis?" 

"  I  hear  'im  wa-be-pe  singin'  just  now ;  that  always  sign  storm 
comin'." 

"  Is  wa-be-pc  a  bird  ?" 

"  Yes ;  wa-be-pe  little  bird  ;   got  kin'  of  small  little  spots  all  over." 

"  Does  it  sing  at  night?" 

"Always;  sings  best  when  moonlight;  then  he  sing  once  every 
hour  all  night ;  s'pose  he  sing  dark  night,  sign  storm  comin'. " 

"Is  he  like  any  of  the  birds  that  were  about  the  camp 
yesterday  ? " 


m 


I.  ■■ 


I,  i     t 


ill 


;i  ■■ 


■W 


2l8 


Cayiboii- Hunting. 


No,  he  don't  lon^  here  't  all,  only  summer  time ;  this  time  year 
most  always  gone  away  warm  country  somewheres ;  s'pose  he  don't 
go  pretty  ({uick,  sartin  get  froze." 

"  S'pose  all  han's  stop  talkin',  may  be  chance  hear  wa-be-pe 
again,"  said  Tomah. 

Taking  up  a  position  far  enough  away  to  get  rid  of  the  noise  made 
by  the  fire,  I  waited  patiendy  for  wa-be-pe.  After  listening  intently 
for  a  few  moments,  I  heard  four  inexpressibly  mournful,  bell-like  notes, 
uttered  with  marked  distinctness,  and  surprisingly  like  the  first  four 
notes  of  "Auld  Lang  Syne."  On  reflection,  1  became  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  the  notes  of  this  bird  were  exactly  like  the  first  notes  of  the 
song  of  the  white-throated  finch  ;  and  after  consultation  with  Sebatis,  I 
was  convinced  that  I  had  placed  the  nocturnal  songster  correctly.  At 
the  first  dawn  of  day,  after  tightening  our  belts  a  hole  or  two,  by  way 
of  breakfast,  as  the  Indians  facetiously  remarked,  we  started  to  pick 
up  the  trail  of  the  caribou.  During  the  night,  several  inches  of  light 
snovt^  had  fallen,  and  the  storm  still  continued. 

"  Which  way,  Sebatis  ?  " 

"  Try  back  on  big  barren ;  then,  s'pose  we  don't  find  'im  fresh 
track,  go  right  camp  'fore  snow  gets  too  deep ;  you  see  we  don't 
have  no  snow-shoes,  make  it  pretty  hard  walkin'  by-em-by." 

The  storm  was  increasing  every  moment,  and  the  light  snow 
drifting  rapidly  before  the  rising  wind,  as.  tramping  in  Indian  file,  we 
approached  the  confines  of  the  big  barren.  The  drift  was  so  heavy 
on  the  barren  that  it  was  hard  work  to  make  headway  against  it, 
and  I  had  just  turned  to  regain  my  wind  when  I  heard  Tomah 
ejaculate  in  Indian : 

"  IMegahlip  !   Chir.-e-ga-bo  !  "  (Caribou — be  careful.) 

The  words  were  hardly  spoken,  when  down  the  wind  came  a 
herd  of  caribou,  trotting  at  a  terrific  pace,  with  head  and  scut  up, 
and  sending  the  snow  in  clouds  on  every  side.  I  tried  to  g(-'t  a  shot, 
but  was  not  quick  enough.  "  liang  !  "  to  right  of  me  —  "  Bang  !  "  to 
left  of  me,  from  the  smooth-bores  of  Sebatis  ami  Tomah,  and  all  is 
smoke  and  drifting  snow,  out  of  which  I  get  a  glimpse  of  a  head  or 
horns,  then  the  full  figure  of  a  fast  trotting  caribou,  and  last  a  noble 
buck  wildly  plunging  in  the  flying  poiidrc — a  victim  to  the  fire  of 
the  Indians. 

"  Come,  Tomah,  be  quick  !  help  butcher  caribou.      No  time  lose 


\-:    \'-'\ 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


219 


HKINOINU    IN    TllK    CARIBOU. 


gcttin'  camp  ;  by-em-by  pretty  hard  chance  g^et  there,  storm  so  heavy, 
you  see,"  said  Sebatis,  as  he  stripped  off  the  hide  of  the  caribou. 

In  a  few  moments,  the  venison  intended  for  the  camp  was  cut, 
apportioned  into  loads,  and  the  rest  of  the  animal  securely  cached, 
to  be  broui^ht  in  when  wanted.  Then  we  hastened  to  get  off  the 
barren  antl  intt)  the  shelter  of  thc^  woods,  where  we  could  draw  a 
free  breath  unoppresseil  by  the  terrible  drift. 

As  the  storm  promised  to  be  very  heavy,  we  lost  no  time  in 
gaininji^  the  protection  of  our  camp. 

"  Now  then,"  said  Sebatis,  as  he  dropped  his  load  on  arriving  at 
camp,  "all  ban's  get  fire-wood  ready,  stan' big  snow-storms;  by 
t'unders,  pretty  lucky  we  get   im  that  caribou." 


•~! 


I' 


:*  i>, 


220 


Cafibou  -Hunting. 


"  Who  kill  'im  that  caribou  ?"  inquired  Tomah  ;  "  two  shots  fired." 

I  had  been  dreading  this  for  some  time,  but  Sebatis  cleverly 
evaded  the  question,  and  prevented  the  endless  discussion  sure  to 
follow,  by  facetiously  replying : 

"  Well,  I  guess  bullet  kill  'im,  sartin." 

Fortunately,  in  the  hurry  of  skinning  the  caribou  and  cutting  up 
the  venison,  they  either  forgot,  or  had  not  time  to  examine  whether 
there  was  more  than  one  bullet-hole  in  the  skin ;  and  as  the  latter, 
probably,  would  not  be  recovered  until  we  were  on  the  home-trail,  I 
flattered  myself  that  the  discussion  would  not  be  revived.  However, 
in  this  I  was  mistaken,  as  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel. 

In  appearance,  no  two  men  could  differ  more  widely  than  my  two 
henchmen.  Sebatis  stood  six  feet  and  two  inches  in  his  moccasins, 
had  clear-cut  features,  and  was  possessed  of  infinite  patience  and 
good  humor.  Under  severe  provocation,  his  temper  was  apt  to  be 
short,  but  it  was  over  quickly,  and  he  never  sulked.  Tomah  was  very 
short  in  stature,  bow-legged,  and  had  a  countenance  terrible  to  look 
upon,  the  fierce  expression  of  his  restless  eyes  indicating  unmistaka- 
bly his  savage  ancestry;  and  yet,  withal,  he  was  not  an  ill-tempered 
man  ;  and  the  deep,  tragic  tones  in  which  he  spoke,  even  when  saying 
the  most  commonplace  things,  made  .some  of  his  utterances  irresistibly 
comical.  His  friendship  for  Sebatis  was  of  long  standing,  and  they 
got  on  very  well  together,  except  when  a  dispute  arose  about  the 
shooting  of  a  moose  or  caribou.  At  such  times  my  ingenuity  was 
taxed  to  prevent  a  fight.  Soon  their  united  efforts  as  axe-men,  with 
my  aid  in  carry!  g  in,  accumulated  such  a  goodly  pile  of  hard  wood 
as  enabled  us  to  laugh  at  the  howling  storm. 

"  Sartin  I  think,  no  chance  hunt  'im  caribou  to-morrow ;  always 
bad  snow-shoein'  when  snow  so  light,"  said  Sebatis,  as  he  shook  off 
the  snow  from  his  clothes  and  prepared  to  cook  our  dinner  of  fat 
caribou  steaks. 

"  Sebatis,  where  are  our  little  friends,  the  birds  ?  I  haven't  seen 
one  since  our  return  to  camp." 

"You  see,  hide  somewhere  when  storm  so  heavy.  S'pose  sun- 
shine, you  see  'im  comin' :  ah-mon-a-tuk  (cross-bill),  kich-e-ge-gelas 
(chickadee),ump-kanusis(moose-bird),an'ki-ha-neas  (red-poll  linnet)." 

Early  next  morning  Tomah  was  absent,  and  I  asked  Sebatis 
.  .    i  ^  he  was. 


Caribou  -Hunt tug. 


is 


221 


"Gone  away  somewhere 'bout  daylight,"  he  replied;  "try  find 
'im  sign  caribou,  may  be." 

At  noon,  Tomah  marched  into  camp,  bringing  with  him,  to  my 
horror,  the  head  and  skin  of  the  caribou  slain  the  previous  day. 

"  Who  kill  'im  this  caribou  ?  Only  one  ball-hole  in  skin  !  "  he 
said,  defiantly,  and  in  his  deepest  bass,  as  he  deposited  his  spoils  on 
the  snow. 

"  1  fire  right  on  his  head, "  said  Sebatis,  springing  to  his  feet. 

"Well,  you  miss  him,  sartin.  Bullet  strike  'im  on  ribs  jus'  where 
I  fire,"  rejoined  Tomah. 

"  Sartin,  you  tell  'im  big  lie.  1  don't  miss  'im  't  all,"  returned 
Sebatis,  fiercely,  as  he  unrolled  the  skin  to  examine  for  himself  His 
search  disclosed  but  one  bullet-hole,  and  that  was  on  the  side,  just  as 
Tomah  stated. 

After  carefully  examining  the  skin,  I  turned  my  attention  to  the 
head,  and  was  about  to  give  up  in  despair  when  I  observed  that  one 
of  the  tines  had  been  completely  carried  away  close  to  the  main 
stem. 

"  Here's  where  your  ball  struck,"  I  said  to  Sebatis,  pointing  out 
the  recent  fracture  on  the  horn. 

"Sartin,  that's  true,"  said  Sebatis.  "I  know  I  didn't  miss 'im 
•t  all." 

"  Always  Sebatis  come  out  pretty  well.  S'pose  nobody  else  fire, 
sartin  no  caribou-steak  breakfast  this  mornin',"  growled  Tomah. 

In  the  afternoon,  the  sun  shone  out  bright  and  warm,  and  our 
pert  little  friends,  the  birds,  shyly  renewed  our  acquaintance.  The 
tameness  of  these  forest  birds  is  ever  a  source  of  delight  to  me.  It 
is  quite  common  to  see  cross-bills,  pine-finches,  chickadees,  and  red- 
polls all  picking  up  crumbs  together  at  one's  feet ;  and  often  after  a 
few  days'  acquaintance  they  become  so  familiar  that  they  will  accept 
food  from  the  hand. — bread-crumbs,  bits  of  raw  meat;  and  even  salt 
pork  is  readily  accepted.  In  fact,  nothing  seems  to  come  amiss  to 
the  little  beauties,  and  they  evidently  enjoy  the  change  from  the  dry 
cones  and  buds  which  form  the  staple  of  their  winter  diet. 

It  seems  ungrateful  to  single  out  any  one  bird  where  all  are  so 
tame,  but  I  think  that  I  must  give  the  palm  in  this  respect  to  my 
favorite — little  black-cap.  The  naturalists  give  this  little  bird  a 
dreadful  character,  and  say  of  him  that  he  smashes  in  the  skulls  of 


I..  ^ 


III 


t 


l» 


m 


i\ 


U  .  !! ' 


i  n: 


't    SI 


222 


Canbon- Hunting. 


other  little  birds  and  eats  their  brains.  I  shall  always  consider  it  a 
vile  slander,  Audubon  and  all  the  rest  of  them  to  the  contrary  not- 
withstanding. The.se  charminjf  little  birds  are  .seldom  seen  e.xcept 
in  tile  depths  of  the  forests ;  at  rare  intervals,  they  come  out  to  the 
clearings,  but  their  homes  are  in  the  forest.  In  order  to  give  an 
idea  of  the  tameness  of  these  birds,  I  may  mention  that  at  this 
moment,  as  I  write,  a  cedar-bird  is  begging  to  be  taken  on  my  finger 
and  held  up  to  my  face  so  that  he  may  indulge  in  his  pet  occupation 
of  preening  my  mustache,  and  a  red-poll  linnet  is  industriously  strew- 
ing the  floor  with  my  pencils  and   paper,  and  if  scolded  flies  away 

uttering  his  plaintive  call,  "Sweet-Willie!" 
At  night,  as  we  sat  over  the  camp-fire  smok- 
ing our  pipes,  we 
heard  a  horrid 
screech  in  the 
forest. 

"  Up-we-pe-se- 


CKDAK-IIIKDS. 


kin  [lyn.x]  chasin'  rabbits,"  said 
Tomah  in  sepulchral  tones,  be- 
tween the  whiffs  of  his  pipe. 

"You  .see,"  said  Sebatis,  in  e.xplana- 
tion  of   fomah's  remark,  "when  up-we- 

pe-se-kin  make  noise  like  that,  scar'  'im  rabbit  so  bad  he  jump  right 
out  sight  in  deep  snow,  then  you  see  up-we-pe-se-kin  dig  him  out 
an'  have  pretty  good  supper." 

Just   as  I  was   turning  out  next   morning,  .Sebatis  walked    into 
camp,  and  said : 

"  Sartin,  caribou  very  hungry  this  mornin' ;    I  find  plenty  places 
where  he  eat  'im  off  old  men's  beards,  close  up." 

This  is  the  long,  trailing  moss  which  hangs  from  the  trees  and 
bushes,  and  is  a  favorite  food  of  the  caribou. 


Caribou  -  Hi  nit  tug. 


223 


"What  kind  of  snnw-shoeinj;  to-day,  Sehatis?" 
"Just  ri^rht;   sun   pack  'im  down  snow  good  deal;    very  good 
chance  snow-slioein'  now."'  \ 


FdKF.ST    HIRDS. 


Tomah  had  breakfast  ready,  and  in  a  few  moments  moccasins 
and  snow-shoes  were  the  order  of  the  day. 

"Which  way,  Sebatis?" 

"Try  'ini  big  barren  again." 

"  Sartin,  best  go  little  barren  first,"  said  Tomah;  "  s'pose  we 
don't  find  'im  caribou,  then  try  'im  big  barren." 

"  May  be  Tomah  right,"  said  Sebatis;  "little  barren  nearest, — 
only  'bout  two  miles, — an'  very  good  ground  to  fin'  caribou." 

Just  enough  snow  had  fallen  to  make  good  snow-shoeing;  in  fact, 
we  could  have  got  on  without  snow-shoes  but  for  the  drifts  and 
swampy  parts  of  the  barrens,  over  which  the  broad  snow-shoes  bore 
us  safely.  Fortunately  for  our  comfort,  tht;  high  wind  that  prevailed 
prevented  the  snow  lodging  in  thi;  spreading  boughs  of  the  conifer- 
ous trees,  and  we  escajied  the  smothering  often  experienced  from 
avalanches  of  snow  immediately  after  a  snow-storm.  These  ava- 
lanches are  one  of  the  most  disagreeable  things  encountered  in  the 
forest  in  winter.  Sometimes,  as  the  hunter  tries  to  force  his  way 
under  the  pendent  boughs  of  a  large  fir-tree,  the  accumulated  snow 
will  be  discharged  upon  his  head,  getting  down  his  neck  if  his  hood 
is  not  up,  wetting  the  locks  and  barrels  of  his  gun,  and  piling  up  on 


I ! 

iif 


\  ■  \ 


r 


iM 


VHi 


224 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


his  snow-shoes  in  such  a  manner  as  to  hold  him  prisoner  for  the  time; 
and  often,  in  tryinj^  to  work  clear,  he  j^a-ts  his  snow-shoes  tangled 
and  takes  a  header  into  the  snow,  and  his  misery  is  complete.  More- 
over, the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that,  while  he  is  helplessly  flound- 
ering in  the  snow,  he  hears  the  sharp  crack  of  his  companion's  rifle, 
who  has  stolen  a  march  on  him  and  is  up  with  the  trame ;  and  then 
good-hye  to  any  sport  that  day,  for  even  if  he  could  get  his  gun  dry 
and  serviceable  again,  his  nerves  are  so  unstrung  that  he  could  not 
hit  the  side  of  a  house,  much  less  the  swift  caribou. 

On  our  way  to  the  barren  we  saw  several  fresh  tracks  of  caril)ou, 
but  had  not  discovered  their  beds,  as  the  Indians  term  the  depressions 
in  the  snow  made  bj-  the  caribou  when  h'ing  ilown  to  rest.  After 
inspecting  indications  of  that  kind,  the  Indian  can  form  a  correct 
opinion  of  the  time  elapsed  since  the  beds  were  occupied,  and  is 
guided  thereby  in  his  decision  as  to  whether  it  is  wise  to  follow  up 
the  tracks  leading  therefrom. 

Silent  as  mutes,  we  tramped  along  in  Indian  file;  but  if  the 
Indians  did  not  use  their  tongues,  their  eyes  were  not  idle,  and  the 
slightest  caribou  sign  was  instantly  discovered  and  examined.  "We 
had  nearly  reached  the  barren  without  finding  any  fresh  tracks,  and 
I  was  getting  a  little  impatient,  and  sorry  that  we  had  not  gone  to 
the  big  barren,  as  first  suggested  by  Sebatis,  as  it  was  in  that  direc- 
tion he  saw  the  places  where  the  caribou  had  cropped  off  the  "  old 
men's  beards." 

"  Little  barren  handy  now,"  said  Sebatis.  with  his  usual  abrupt- 
ness. 

"  Where  is  Tomah  ? "  I  inquired,  having  just  discovered  the 
absence  of  that  worthy. 

"Where's  Tomah,  sure  enough?"  echoed  Sebatis.  "I  don't 
miss  him  myself  only  just  now." 

He  had  vanished  like  a  "  spirit  of  eld,"  and  as  where  he  had 
gone,  or  on  what  errand,  was  past  finding  out,  we  made  our  way 
quietly  to  the  edge  of  the  barren  without  him. 

Long  and  earnestly  Sebatis  scanned  the  barren  with  his  search- 
ing gaze,  then  ventured  out  a  few  paces,  stopped  suddenly,  and 
beckoned  me  to  him. 

"Hist!  don't  make  noise,"  he  whispered.  "  Caribou  somewhere 
on  this  barren ;  you  see  'im  track  just  'longside  big  rock,  then  little 


Canboii  -  Hunting. 


225 


ways  'head  you  sec  'iin  tracks  go  everywheres ;  imist  be  nine,  may 
be  ten  caribou  go  that  way." 

"  Are  they  fresli  tracks  ?  " 

"We  look  by-em-l)y;  hml  out  wliich  way  wind  first.  liy  t'un- 
ders,  we  got  wrong  end  Ixirren." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Winil  blow  straiglit  down  barren ;  s'pose  we  trj-  hunt  "im 
caribou,  sartin  he  smell  us." 

"  Well,  what  had  we  Ixttter  do  ?  " 

"  Best  hide  'im  somewiieres  on  barren." 

"  There  's  a  clumi)  of  firs  nearly  in  the  middle  of  the  barren  ;  1 
should  think  that  a  good  place." 

"We  go  try  'im.  You  .see  caribou  movin'  all  time;  may  be 
by-em-by  comin'  back  on  his  tracks,  then  very  good  chance." 

The  i)arren  was  about  three  miles  long  and  over  one  mile  wide, 
sprinkled  with  groujjs  of  fir-trees,  and  the  usual  supply  of  alders, 
bowlders,  and  old  dead  tree-trunks.  Lurking  about  in  our  place  of 
concealment  was  tedious  in  the  e.xtreme,  and  1  was  about  to  beguile 
the  time  with  a  smoke,  but  I  remembered  in  time  the  terrible  rating 
old  Tomah  got  from  Sebatis  when  smoking,  for  we  were  in  ambush 
behind  the  big  bowlder. 

Just  then  we  heard  the  boom  of  a  gun. 

"  Hy  t'unders,  that  old  Tomah,  sartin  ;  so  cunnin',  you  see,  just 
like  fo.x  ;  he  find  out  wind  wrong  way,  then  he  go  round  on  woods 
an'  come  out  other  end  barren." 

"  Do  you  think  he  has  turned  the  caribou  back  this  way?" 

"Sartin,  that  just  reason  he  go  round  woods;  so  cunnin',  you  see, 
that  old   Tomah." 

We  now  moved  out  of  our  shelter  a  little  so  as  to  command  a 
better  view  of  the  barren. 

"Do  you  see  any  caribou,  Sebatis  ?  " 

"No,  don't  .see  nothin'  't  all." 

I  was  looking  intently,  and  fancied  that  I  saw  the  form  of  a 
caribou  disappearing  behind  a  bunch  of  alders.  .Sebatis  saw  him  at 
the  same  moment,  and  sevi;ral  others  that  I  failed  to  detect. 

"By  t'unders!"  he  whispered,  "you  see  'im,  one,  two,  five 
caribou,  just  goin'  Ijehin'  bushes  up  there ;  good  chance  now,  s'pose 
don't  make  'im  noise." 

15 


"•i 


.ill! 


<f  :' 


226 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


\ii 


f     !, 


A    GOOD    CIIANCK. 


The  good  chance  was  so  long  in  coming  that  I  was  well-nigh  in 
despair.  Sebatis  had  crossed  to  another  clump  of  bushes,  and,  being 
rid  of  him,  I  was  just  about  to  resort  to  my  pipe,  when  I  heard  the 
peculiar  and  unmistakable  castanet  sound  caused  by  the  split  hoof 
of  the  caribou  striking  together  as  he  recovered  in  his  stride,  and 
looking  out  on  the  barren  I  saw  five  caribou,  trotting  full  speed, 
almost  abreast  of  me,  and  not  over  forty  yards  distant.  They  raised 
such  clouds  of  snow  that  I  could  only  see  their  heads  and  occasion- 
ally their  shoulders,  but  as  it  was  my  only  chance  I  fired  at  the 
second  caribou  in  the  herd,  and  unfortunately  only  wounded  him. 
He  tried  to  keep  up  with  the  herd,  but  they  soon  distanced  him,  and 
I  was  hurrying  on  in  pursuit,  when  "bang!"  goes  Sebatis's  gun 
from  behind  some  bushes,  and  down  goes  my  caribou. 

"I  wounded  that  caribou,  Sebatis;  there  were  four  others  ahead 
of  him." 

"  Sartin  that's  too  bad.  I  don't  see  'im  't  all,  only  this  one.  You 
see  I  been  look  other  side  bushes,  and  when  I  hear  gun  I  run  this 
way ;  then  I  see  caribou  kin'  of  limpin',  you  see,  an'  I  think  may  be 
get  away,  so  best  shoot  'im  more." 

"  Who  kill  'im  that  caribou  ?  Two  guns  fire,  on'y  one  caribou 
dead,"  said  a  voice  over  my  shoulder,  in  tones  that  could  be  none 
other  than  those  of  Tomah. 


i::i:| 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


227 


"Two  bullets  kill  'im  that  caribou  sartin  this  tinu,"  said  Si-batis, 
pointing  to  two  bullct-hoU-s  in  the  boily  of  the  poor  carilxni. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Tomah  ?     We  thouj^ht  you  were  lost." 

"  No,  not  lost.  When  I  fin'  out  wind  wronj^j  way,  then  I  y;o  in 
woods  an'  come  out  head  barren;  turn  'ini  cariI)ou." 

'   I  )id  you  get  a  shot  at  them  ?" 

"  Sartin,  I  kill   im  caribou. " 

"  How  many  did  you  sce.^" 

"  Bout  t'irtcen.  Five  come  this  way,  rest  gone  away  somewhere, 
may  be  big  barren.     Sartin  plenty  caribou  big  barren  to-morrow." 

"  Why  do  you  say  to-morrow  .•' " 

"'Cause  caribou  all  travelin'  to-day.  I  see  'im  tracks  go  every- 
where, an'  plenty  sign  bite  'im  moss,  besides." 

We  cached  the  caribou  killed  by  Scbatis  and  I,  then  tramped  to 
the  head  of  the  barren  and  performed  a  like  office  for  the  one  killetl 
by  Tomah, — a  two-year-old  buck,  —  then  to  camp,  as  it  was  too 
late  in  the  day  to  try  the  big  barren. 

"  Now,"  said  Sebatis,  after  dinner  and  the  invariable  pipes, 
"Tomah  an'  me  go  hunt  'im  wood  an' bark,  make 'im  tobaugan,  then 
we  haul  'im  caribou  camp.     Keep  'im  safe,  you  see." 

During  the  night  there  was  a  fall  of  snow,  which  made  the  snow- 
shoeing  heavy.  However,  we  determined  to  try  the  big  barren  ;  and 
a  weary  day  we  had  of  it,  tramping  over  the  soft  snow,  which  accu- 
mulated on  the  front  of  the  snow-shoe  and  recjuired  ([uite  an  effort 
to  throw  it  off.  All  traces  of  the  old  tracks  were  obliterated,  and 
we  did  not  see  a  fresh  track  that  day,  although  we  searched  the 
greater  part  of  the  barren,  being  careful  to  disturb  the  snow  as  little 
as  possible,  as  a  show-shoe  trail  is  almost  certain  to  frighten  off  a 
herd  of  caribou. 

After  patient  watching  and  manifold  observations  obtained  by 
climbing  trees,  the  Indians  at  length,  in  despair,  gave  up  hunting 
and  took  to  their  pipes.  Although  as  much  disappointed  as  they 
were,  I  well  knew  that  it  would  be  futile  to  urge  them  on  to  hunt 
until  they  recovered  their  spirits.  Like  two  graven  images,  they  sat 
puffing  away  at  their  pipes,  and  to  all  appearance  might  have  con- 
tinued so  doing  until  the  crack  of  doom,  but  for  an  opportune  crash, 
as  of  breaking  branches,  followed  by  a  resounding  fall  that  came 
from  the  forest,  a  little  to  the  right  of  our  position ;  and  although 


I)  J 


ill 

!'   '' 

I 


i    '1 


I 


h    fii^l' 


228 


Caribou  -/fitiifiiig. 


I  -i 


they  were  wc;ll  aware  of  tlie  cause  of  tlie  noise. — a  lodj^ixl  tree  sud- 
denly rt;leased  l)y  the  branches  j^ivinjj;^  way  and  lettiny^  it  fall  to  the 
jrround, — it  had  the  effect  t)f  \vakin<^  them  up  and  loosening  their 
tonj^uus. 

"  Sundown  come  pretty  quick  now  ;   best  i^o  camp,"  said  Sel)atis. 

"  iiest  <ro  camp, "  echord  Tomah. 

And  _<(o  to  camp  we  did,  in  double-tjuick  time,  arrivin},^  just  as 
darkness  was  closinj^  in. 

There  were  several  chan<,a;s  of  weather  durinj^f  the  ni<;ht,  first  a 
drizzlintj  rain,  then  a  sharp  frost,  followed  by  more  snow. 

"  Metter  luck  to-day,"  said  Sebatis.  "  I  dreamin'  last  night,  see 
'im  plenty  caril)ou." 

"John  very  i^ood  han'  ilreamin';  1  like;  see  'im  Jin'  caribou  first, 
then  1  'lieve  him,"  said    Tomah. 

"Why  does  Tomah  call  you  'olin?"  1  askinl   Sebatis. 

"Well,  you  se(^  1  <(ot  t'ree  —  four — names,  John  Baptist  Joseph, 
that's  my  name." 

"  1  )reamin'  so  hard  he  forijot  his  name,"  said  Tomah;  "he  got 
'nother  name  'sidi-s,  .Saint  John  Maptist  Joseph,  that's  his  name." 

"  Sartin,  that's  true,"  said  .Sebatis:  "now,  I  'member,  I  tell  you 
all  'bout  it — used  to  In;  my  name  just  sanv  Tomah  tell  ;  well,  you 
see,  that  pretty  long  name,  then  make  im  shorter,  call  'im  .Saint 
Baptist;  then  make  'im  short<;r  'gain,  call  im  Sebatis;  s'pose,  mak<,' 
'im  any  shorter,  by-cm -by,  naiue  all  gone. " 

"'Then,  your  surname — 1  mean  your  family  1...  n  — is  Josi'ph  .•' " 

"  Sartin,  my  fathiT,  all  my  brothers,  got  sanu;  iiame,  Joseph." 

"  Now,  .Sebatis  got  fix  'im  Ids  naiiu;  gain,  s'|)ose  he  show  us 
where  find  'im  carilK)u,  "  saitl   Tomah. 

"  .Sartin,  snow  most  over,  we  go  big  barren  'gain." 

The  snow  was  greatly  in  our  favor,  as  just  cMiough  had  fallen  to 
enable  us  to  walk  noiselessly  on  the  crust. 

A  very  strangi;  s(;nsation  is  often  <;.\perienced  by  the  hunter  as 
h(;  walks  unconcernedly  on  his  way,  after  the  formation  of  a  crust ; 
at  first  he  hears  a  peculiar  creaking  sound,  ami  fancies  that  the  snow 
is  moving  under  him,  then  the  creaking  becomes  louder,  and  is 
accompanied  by  a  mufflt'd,  rumbling  noise,  and  suddenly  the  snow 
und(;r  and  around  him  sinks,  and  he  fears  that  he  is  about  to  fall 
into  an  aby.ss.      'The  snow  in  reality  seldom  settles  over  one  foot  or 


;i'!i 


Caribou  -  Hunting. 


229 


eighteen  inches,  and   no  matter  how   familiar  one  may  be  with  it, 
every  fresh  experience  excites  the  same  ajjprehension. 

I  had  just  been  let  down  in  that  way,  when  my  attention  was 
attracted  by  Sebatis,  and  he  beckoned  me  to  where  he  and  Tomah 
were  examining  something. 

"  liight  caribou  all  sU.'C|)  here  last  night,"  he  said,  pointing  to  a 
number  of  depressions  in  the  snow. 

"  How  long  since  they  started,  Sebatis?" 

"  Start  only  little  while:,  you  see  tracks  so  fresh.  Always  good 
time  hunt  'im  when  first  started,  'cause  bite  'im  moss  an'  feedin'.  then 
he  don't  go  fast  't  all." 

"  liest  take  'im  off  snow-shoes  an'  walk  in  caribou  tracks,"  said 
Tomah. 

"  Sartin  that  best,  then  don't  make  no  noise,"  said  Sebatis. 

This  mode  of  traveling  is  anything  but  agreeable,  but  as  the 
snow  was  not  very  deep,  it  was  greatly  preferable  to  what  I  have 
often  experienced  on  other  occasions,  when  one  wouKl  sink  half-way 
to  the  knees  at  every  step,  and  woe  betide  him  if  he  made  a  false 
step ! 

"  Caribou  stop  here  feedin'  little  while,"  said  Sebatis,  pointing  to 
some  newly  cro])peil  "old  men's  beard." 

"  Caribou  go  two  ways,"  said   Tomah.  who  was  a  little  in  advance. 

The  herd  hail  se|)arated,  three  caribou  going  toward  the  big 
barren  and  five  off  in  another  direction.  As  it  promised  a  better 
chance  for  game,  1  imitated  the  tactics  of  the  caribou,  and  divided 
our  party,  taking  .S(;batis  with  me  on  the  track  of  the  five,  and  send- 
ing I'omah  off  after  the  others. 

Plodding  along  in  the  foot-holes  of  the  caribou  was  very  leg- 
tiring,  but  Sebatis  kept  on  at  a  trot  until  brought  to  a  stand  by  some 
very  fresh  sign. 

"  Caribou  bite  'im  moss  here  only  'bout  t'ree  minutes  ago;  must 
be  handy  somewhere;  best  put'im  on  snow-shoes  again,  may  be  have 
run  pretty  (juick  by-em-by." 

After  putting  on  his  snow-shoe.s,  Sebatis  struck  out  in  a  direction 
nearly  parallel  to  the  caribou  trail,  and  we  set  off  at  a  very  much 
quicker  gait. 

We  were  just  descending  a  slight  declivity,  when  Sebatis  waved 
his  hand  to  me,  exclaiming  at  the  same  time: 
'5A 


i:i 


\'\ 


230 


Caribou  -Hunting. 


I  \l 


:S1 


SKII-TA-GA-UO  ! 


"  Sch-ta-j(a-ho  !"  ( Keep  hack. ) 

At  the  word  I  dro]>])ecl  in  my  tracks  and  awaited  fiirthc'r  orders. 
Twice  he  raised  his  jj^un  as  if  to  fire,  then  lowered  th(.'  muzzle  and 
beckoned  me  to  him. 

"  What  is  it  all  about?      Do  you  st;e  the  caribou?"  1  whispered. 

"  Sartin,  see  'im  all  five  walkin'  in  wooils  just  little  ways  'head. 
You  look  same-  way  1  point,  by-em-by  )ou  see  'im." 

We  had  just  enler(;d  a  <rlade  of  fir-trees,  and  between  the  tree- 
trunks  I  caujj^ht  a  trlimpse  of  what  1  supposed  to  be  a  lake,  but  tlid 
not  discover  an)'  caribou. 

"Hist!  there  j^^oes  caribou,  there  ^cx's  nother  one  —  two — t'ree 
more;   you  sc;e  'im  ?      (juick,  fire!" 

iiany-  I  Ljoes  my  rifle  at  an  indistinct  form  moviny^  past  the  tree- 
trunks  sonn;  thirty  yards  distant. 

"  \'ou  kill  'im,  sartin,"  Sebatis  whispered.  "  1  see  'im  give  bij>; 
jump,  then  he  don't  move  't  all. 

"  Are  the  others  jrone  ?" 


Caribou  -  Hunting. 


231 


bljf 


•'  No,  scared  pretty  bad  ;  stan'  listenin'  somewheres.  By  t'unders  ! 
— look,  you  see  'iin  caribou  move  on  small  bushes  right  011  lake  — 
fire!" 

"  Blaze  away,  Sebatis.      1  don't  see  them,  and  they  will  l)e  off  sure 
if  you  wait  for  me.' 

Hang !  goes  his  smooth-bore  with  a  roar  that  made  me  as  deaf 
as  an  adder  for  the  moment. 

"Did  you  kill  him  ?" 

"  May  be  so.      Not  sure,  you  see,  so  much  smoke." 

VV^e  hastened  to  the  spot  and  found  my  caribou — a  large  buck 
— lying  dead  in  his  tracks.  A  little  further  on,  SeJKitis  found  a 
bloody  trail  leading  down  to  the  lake,  and  about  one  hundred  yards 
from  the  shore  we  saw  the  other  caribou — a  fine  doe — vainly  strug- 
gling to  regain  her  feet  on  (jur  approach. 

.\t  the  sight,  1  vowed  that  1  would  break  my  gun  and  never  hunt 
again,  until 

"  Here,  .Sebatis,  take  my  rifle  and  finish  your  work  quickly." 

"  How  far  is  it  to  the  camp?" 

"  Little  mor'n  four  miles.  1  go  get  tobaugan,  an'  bring  some 
dinner.      .S'pose  you  stop  here?" 

"Yes.      He  as  cjuick  as  you  can." 

"  .Sartin,  I  go  pretty  quick.  You  see  snowin'  again.  Hy-em-l)y 
heavy  storm,  may  be." 

True  to  his  promise,  Sebatis  returned  inside  of  a  couple  of  hours. 
With  appetites  born  of  the  woods,  we  dispatched  our  lunch.  Then 
to  work  to  get  our  gamt^  to  camp.  The  angry  gusts  of  wind  sough- 
ing through  the  lofty  branches  of  the  fir-trees,  and  ilriving  the  fast- 
falling  snow  into  clouds  of  impalpable  powder,  warned  us  to  hasten 
our  packing. 

"  Ready,  now,  no  time  spare,  iiy-em-by  storm  so  heavy,  hard 
chance  find  'im  camp,"  said  .Sebatis.  He  had  fast(;n(;d  one  end  of 
a  serviceable  rope  of  withes  to  the  tobaugan,  passed  part  of  it  over 
his  shoulder  and  gave  me  the  other  end  to  pass  over  mine,  and  away 
we  tramped. 

These  sudden  winter  storms  possess  the  magic  power  of  invest- 
ing the  hunter  with  an  indefinable  terror.  In  a  very  short  time?  all 
landmarks  are  obliterated  and  the  air  filled  with  a  blinding  povvd(;r. 
Now  and  then  the  snow  .settles  under  him  with  a  crash,  and  he  feels 


P  i 


1  i 


* 


'  ■    !' *! 


232 


Cart  doit  -Hunting. 


as  if  there  was  nothing  real  or  substantial  around  him.  The  bewil- 
dering, drifting  powder  is  everywhere,  and  he  is  blinded  and  buffeted 
by  it  in  such  a  manner  as  calls  for  the  instant  exertion  of  all  his 
courage  to  carry  him  safely  through. 

"By  t'unders !  Never  so  glad  get  camp  all  my  life.  So  tired, 
you  see  storm  so  heavy,"  said  Sebatis,  as  we  rested  before  the 
camp-fire  after  our  fearful  four-mile  tramp  from  the  lake. 

The  click  of  -'^^proaching  snow-shoes  announced  the  return  of 
Tomah. 

"  Who  kill  'im  that  cari " 

Just  then  he  saw  that  there  were  two  dead  caribou,  and,  without 
another  syllable:  he  shook  the  snow  from  his  clothes  and  sat  down 
by  the  fire. 


A    SHOT    FROM    TOMAH. 


DEER-HUNTING    ON    THE    AU    SABLE. 


By   W.    MACKAY    LAFFIN. 


An  invitation  to  a  few  weeks'  deer-shooting  in  the  wilds  of 
/  1  Michigan  was  not  to  be  foregone.  There  had  been  occasional 
jL  X-  rumors  heard  in  the  East  of  the  winter  sports  of  the  Michigan 
backwoods ;  rumors  that  had  lost  none  of  their  attractiveness  by 
their  journey  from  the  West,  and  which  served  to  make  the  oppor- 
tunity, when  it  did  arrive,  wholly  irresistible.  I  was  to  join  a  party 
of  gentlemen,  who  for  several  years  have  hunted  upon  the  Au  Sable 
River  in  northern  Michigan,  upon  one  of  their  annual  trips ;  and  we 
were  all  to  meet  upon  an  appointed  day  at  Bay  City,  which  is  at  the 
head,  if  head  it  can  be  called,  of  Saginaw  Bay.  Our  route  thence 
was  by  steamer  to  Tawas,  and  from  Tawas  by  teams  to  the  hunting- 
grounds  in  the  Michigan  backwoods. 

The  steam-boat  wharf  at  Bay  City  was  full  cjf  bustle  and  activity. 
There  were  piles  of  baggage  and  numbers  of  an.xious  owners.  Con- 
spicuous among  the  parcels  were  the  gun-cases,  some  made  of  new 
pig  leather  or  water-proofing,  and  evidently  out  for  the  first  time, 
and  others  of  weatherworn  aspect,  telling  of  many  a  campaign  and 
of  much  serious  usage.  Every  object  upon  the  wharf  and  about  the 
freight  office  to  which  a  dog  could  be  tied  had  a  dog  tied  to  it,  and 
all  these  dogs  were  rearing,  and  jjlunging,  and  tugging  at  their 
chains,  and  giving  vent  to  occasional  sharp  yells,  in  a  condition  of 
great  excitement  —  a  feeling  more  or  less  shared  by  the  numerous 
higher  animals  who  were  i)resent.  The  crowd  was  composed  of 
hunting  parties  bound  for  the  backwoods  by  way  of  the  various  set- 
tlements on  the  Lake  Huron  side  of  the  Michigan  peninsula;  of  lum- 
bermen going  to  the  camps  ;  of  farmers  going  home,  and  of  the  usual 


n> 


:;  l: 


ii  vti 


Bi:< 


!  3 


i^ 

( 

i^' 

1 

"'vf 

r:  i\  i 


.   '■  T-      r' 


Iff 


1 


'      II 


I       ijl 


234 


Dccy-Hniitiug  on  the  An  Sable. 


variety  of  more  or  less  accentuated  Western  types.  There  was  a 
good  deal  of  confusion  about  it,  and  among  it  all  our  party  met,  and, 
after  a  few  moments  of  spasmodic  and  pleasant  welcome  and  the  in- 
terchange of  hearty  greetings,  we  got  on  board  the  steamer.  Our 
dogs,  twelve  in  number,  were  safely  bestowed  between  decks,  and  as 
remotely  from  the  dogs  of  other  people  as  possible ;  all  our  baggage 
was  put  away,  nothing  missing  or  forgotten,  and  we  moved  off  from 
the  wharf  with  that  sense  of  entire  comfort  that  is  incident  only  to 
well-ordered  and  projierly  premeditated  excursions. 

We  had  a  ilelightful  run  up  Saginaw  Bay  on  a  beautiful  October 
evening,  on  which  the  sun  went  down  with  one  of  those  gorgeous 
di.splays  of  color  which  England's  most  eminent  art  critic  has  tokl  us 
are  seen  but  ver}'  seldom  in  a  life-time.  It  was  an  impressive  and 
singularly  bean  "fj'  -  tacle,  but  one  of  which  our  West  is  prodigal, 
and  which  is  U' ^  ,'  "^^n*^  with  insular  conditions  of  fog  and  moist- 
ure. A  note  of  :,  .i.L.a'n  n  sounded  within  the  captain's  hearing 
had  the  eflect  of  eliciting  his  practical  valuation  of  it.  "  Humph!" 
he  said,  "rain  lik'-  i)la' ,s  aij  '':y  to-morrow."  It  was  a  matter  of 
common  regret  that  the  barons  "  c  r  .pressions  of  this  worthy  navi- 
gator were  invariably  correct.  We  made  some  stoppages  at  points 
upon  the  shore,  where  seemingly  unaccountable  wharves  projected 
from  the  outskirts  of  desolation.  At  these  we  took  off  people  who 
might  have  been  fugitives  from  some  new  Siberia,  and  debarked 
people  who  might  have  been  exiles  going  thither.  But  at  half-past 
eight  o'clock  we  reached  Kast  Tawas,  where,  as  the  boat  came  along- 
side, we  were  cheerily  hailed  out  of  the  darkness  b)-  a  mighty  hunter 
of  the  wilderness  named  Curtis,  who  had  come  dowp  with  his  stout 
team  to  meet  us  and  help  to  carry  our  multifarious  traps.  We  dis- 
embarked amid  a  dreadful  howling  of  the  dogs,  who  charged  about 
in  every  direction,  dragging  their  masters,  in  the  darkne.ss,  over  all 
manner  of  calamitous  obstructions,  regardless  of  kicks,  cuffs,  or  vigor- 
ous exhortations.  In  half  an  hour  we  were  comfortably  ensconced 
in  an  inn  with  an  enormous  landlord,  whose  mighty  girth  shook  with 
unctuous  premonitions  of  an  excellent  supper.  He  produced  half  of 
a  deer  slain  that  very  day,  and  gave  us  an  earnest  of  our  coming 
sport  in  the  shape  of  a  vast  quantity  of  broiled  venison,  all  of  which 
we  dutifully  ate. 

Our  captain  —  for  we   had   a  captain,   as   every  well-constituted 


Deer- Hunting  on  the  An  Sablv. 


235 


,:!^^-^^^^^f'>^^^^^^^.: 


VV    S\(MN.\U      HAY. 


huntinjr-party  should  —  was  Mr.  John  lirwin,  of  Cleveland,  a  gcnde- 
man  at  whose  door  lies  the  death  of  a  grievous  quantity  of  game  of 
all  kinds,  and  whose  seventy  years  seem  to  have  imparted  vigor  and 
activity  to  a  yet  stalwart  and  symmetrical  frame.  Hale,  hearty, 
capable  of  enduring  all  manner  of  fatigue,  unerring  with  his  rifle,  full 
of  the  craft  of  the  woods  and  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  kindly  humor, 
he  was  the  soul  of  our  party.  We  were  under  his  orders  the  next 
day,  and  so  remained  until  our  hunt  was  over.  Me  was  implicitly 
obeyed  ;  none  of  his  orders  were  unpleasant ;  they  simply  implied 
the  necessary  discipline  of  the  party.  We  left  lawas  in  the  earl)' 
morning.  We  had  two  wagons,  one:  of  whiil'  carried  nine  of  us  ;  the 
other,  Curtis's,  had  the  heavier  baggage  in  it,  and  was  accompanied 
by  the  remaining  three  on  foot.  They  hail  the  optit)n  of  getting  into 
the  wagon  by  turns,  if  tired;  but  they  were  all  good  walkers,  We 
had  twenty-five  miles  to  make  to  "  Thompson's,"  where  we  were  to 
halt  for  the  night,  and  on  the  following  tlay  proct'ed  Icisureh  to  Camp 
Krwin,  six  miles  further.  .As  we  left  Tawas  it  rained,  according  to 
our  nautical  pro|)hetof  the  previous  evening,  and  it  continued  to  rain 
during  the  entire  day.  There;  is  nothing  particularly  exhilarating  in 
driving  in  a  drenching  rain,  even  when  it  is  done  under  particularly 


•:\ 


\a'M 


^^i 


<:  ii 


fc;p 


;i 


i;  •»■ 


:li  ^  i 


236 


Deer- Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


favorable  auspices.  There  was  some  novelty  for  one,  to  be  sure,  in 
the  jrreat  wastes  of  scrub-oak,  the  groups  of  stout  Norway  pines,  the 
white  birch,  the  maples,  the  spruce-pines,  and  the  beeches,  (^listening 
in  the  impent-trablejungles  of  tangled  undergrowth,  and  in  the  iteration 
and  reiteration  of  landscapes  with  no  landmark  or  peculiarity  whereby 
one  might  distinguish  one  from  the  other.  All  this  was  in  one  sense 
a  novelty,  inasmuch  as  one  might  never  have  seen  anything  like  it 
before;  but  the  enjoyment  of  it,  were  it  really  susceptible  of  being 
enjoyed,  was  marred  by  the  steadiness  with  which  the  cold  rain  beat 
in  our  faces  ;  extinguishing  cigars  and  making  pipes  a  doubtful  bless- 
ing; drenching  everything  exposed  to  it,  and  imparting  that  peculiar 
chill  to  which  mind  and  body  are  alike  liable  under  such  conditions. 
One  of  our  party,  a  veritable  Mark  Tapley,  who  was  sure  to  "come 
out  strong  "  under  the  most  discouraging  conditions,  whistled  fugi- 
tive airs  in  a  resolute  way ;  but  they  got  damp  and  degenerated  into 
funereal  measures,  suggesting  that  possibly  the  Dead  March  in 
"Saul"  was  originally  conceived  in  a  spirit  of  inferior  vivacity  or 
sprightly  insincerit)-,  and  becoming  wet  had  been  recognized  as  a 
thing  of  merit,  and  had  therefore  been  permanently  saturated  for  use 
on  occasions  of  public  grief.  Another  dispiriting  element  was  the 
road,  of  which  a  large  part  was  what  is  known  as  "corduroy,"  from 
some  obscure  resemblance,  which  does  not  exist,  between  its  struct- 
ure and  a  certain  well-known  fabric  affected  by"  horsey"  gentlemen. 
The  jolting  we  got  over  this  was  painful  to  a  degree  which  it  is  dis- 
agreeable to  recall.  It  jarred  every  bone  in  one's  body,  and  embit- 
tered the  whole  aspect  of  life.  It  alternated  with  a  series  of 
diabolical  mud-holes,  into  which  we  dived,  and  rocked,  and  swayed, 
and  splashed  interminably.  Bunyan's  Slough  of  Despond  is  all  very 
well  in  its  way,  but  the  possibilities  of  figurative  description  of  that 
kind  are  as  a  closed  book  to  one  who  has  never  ridden  on  a  corduroy 
road  in  a  wagon  with  inferior  springs.  At  last,  we  emerged  on  a 
higher  plateau  of  sand,  and  left  the  marsh  behind  us  for  good.  The 
rain  had  become  a  milder  and  tolerable  evil,  compared  to  the  swamp 
road.  All  was  sand,  but  the  wet  made  it  "  pack "  beneath  the 
horses'  feet  and  the  wheels,  and  we  went  over  it  at  an  excellent  pace. 
Around  us  was  the  Michigan  forest  in  all  its  wonderful  variety  of 
growth  and  richness,  and  in  all  its  drear  monotony  and  desolation. 
Grass  there  was  in  tufts,  and  thin  and  poor.     Thick  gray  lichens  and 


Deer- H It n ting  on  the  .lit  Sable. 


237 


starvinjf  mosses  strove  to  cover  up  tlie  thankless  sand,  l)ut  nothinjr 
seemeil  to  prosper  in  it  hut  the  trees,  for  which  it  held  mysterious 
sustenance  where  their  deep  roots  could  reach  it.  But  even  they 
made  an  unlovely  forest.  The  threat  fires  that  sweep  across  this  re- 
gion leave  hideous  scars  behind  them.  One  sees  for  miles  and  miles 
the  sandy  plain  covered  with  the  charred  trunks  of  the  fallen  forest. 
Great  lofty  pines,  whose  stems  are  blackened  from  the  root  as  hii^h 
as  the  fire  has  reached,  —  luiy:e,  distorted,  antl  disfi<rured. — stand 
gloomily  above  their  moldering  brethren,  their  white  skeletons  ex- 
tending their  dead  and  broken  arms,  in  mute  testimony  of  lost  grace 
and  beauty.  Nothing  could  be  more  desolate  than  these  "burnings," 
as  they  are  called.  They  present  an  aspect  of  such  utter,  hopeless 
dreariness,  and  such  complete  and  painful  solitude,  as  one  might 
imagine  to  exist  onlv  within  the  frozen  circle  of  the  Arctic. 

The  rain  continued  and  wet  us  until  we  began  to  get  on  good 
terms  with  it,  as  if  we  were  Alaskans  or  Aleuts,  anil  rather  liked  it. 
Besides,  we  got  stirred  up  over  the  deer-tracks  in  the  sand.  rhe\- 
were  very  numerous  and  fresh,  and  one  or  two  rifles  were  loaded  in 
hopes  of  a  shot  at  one  "  on  the  wing."  Xone  came  in  sight,  how- 
ever, and  the  undergrowth  and  scrub-oaks  effectually  kept  them 
from  our  view. 

At  half-past  one  oclock,  after  a  few  premonitory  symptoms  in 
the  shape  of  fences,  of  which  the  purpose  was  olxscure,  since  they 
hedged  in  nothing,  and  looketl  as  if  they  hatl  only  been  put  up  for 
fun  or  practice,  we  came  sudilenly  to  the  edge  of  a  basin  or  depres- 
sion in  the  plateau  over  which  we  had  been  liriving,  and  there, 
beneath  us,  lay  ihompson's.  Here  in  the  midst  of  the  wiklerne.ss 
was  a  prosperous,  healthy-looking  farm,  actually  yielding  vegetables 
and  cereals,  anil  having  about  it  all  manner  of  horses,  cows,  |)igs, 
hay-stacks,  barns,  dogs  to  back,  pumpkins,  and  all  the  other  estab- 
lished characteristics  of  a  well-regulated  farm.  We  rattled  down  the 
declivity  to  the  house  and  met  with  a  hearty  welcome,  most  of  the 
party  having  known  Thompson  for  years.  He  is  a  bluff,  hearty 
backwoodsman,  whom  years  of  uninterrupted  prosperit)-  have  made 
rich.  He  owns  thousands  of  acres  of  timber-land,  and  his  house  is 
known  far  and  wide  as  the  best  hotel  in  Michigan.  Mrs.  Thoiup- 
son  is  not  exactly  a  backwoodswoman  ;  indeed,  she  is  quite  as  much 
of  a  .surprise  to  one  as  is  the  place    itself.      She  is  an  excellent  lady. 


W\ 


;i>i 


I>!m 


1.  '1 


s 

PPPr'n' 

:' 

^ 

I'l''  ■■       I    * 

f 

4   ■ 

»' 

i 

1 

;■]  i! 

1 

i 

i 

1  ^ 

i 

r  '■ 


;;ii 


.       !J: 


238 


Dcer-Huntiiig  on  the  Aii  Sable. 


and  her  refining  influence  has  been  felt  in  a  very  marked  degree  in 
that  wild  region.  She  can  shoot,  though.  Indeed,  she  handles  a 
rifle  with  the  greatest  coolness  and  skill, — thinks  nothing  of  knock- 
ing over  a  deer,  and  confesses  to  aspirations  in  the  direction  of  bear. 
Mr.  Thompson's  welcome  in  the  course  of  an  hour  took  a  practical 
form,  when  we  all  sat  down  to  a  magnificent  roast  of  venison,  broiled 
chickens,  and  the  most  delicious  of  vegetables  ;  for  it  seems  that  when 
one  does  get  a  bit  of  Michigan  land  which  will  consent  to  be  culti- 
vated, it  turns  out  to  be  remarkably  good  land  indeed.  There  were 
great  glass  pitchers  of  excellent  milk  upon  the  table,  similar  pitchers 
of  real  cream,  and  everything  was  neatly  served.  The  table-cloth 
was  fine  and  of  snowy  whiteness,  the  napkins  (this  in  the  heart  of  a 
Michigan  wilderness  !  )  ditto,  and  everything  just  as  it  should  be,  and 
just  as  one  would  least  have  e.xpected  to  find  it. 

Thompson's  hands  came  in  the  evening, — Canadians,  for  the 
most  part,  and  talking  an  inexplicable  jargon  called  French.  Reen- 
forced  by  a  few  lumbermen  and  trappers,  they  filled  the  big,  dimly 
lighted  room  which  would  ordinarily  be  called  the  bar-room,  but 
which,  having  no  bar,  owing  to  Mrs.  Thompson's  way  of  inculcating 
temperance  principles,  cannot  so  be  called.  They  were  noisy,  well- 
behaved,  and  good-humored,  and  they  crowded  around  the  stove, 
and  bedewed  it  pleasantly  and  copiously  with  infusion  of  Virginia 
plug.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  talk  about  lumber ;  how  many  feet 
such-and-such  an  one  expected  to  "get  out";  where  such-and-such 
camps  were  about  to  be  located  ;  the  prospect  of  sufficient  snow  to 
move  the  heavy  lumber-sleighs,  and  a  variety  of  topics  that  had 
more  or  less  sawdust  in  their  composition.  They  spoke  with  loud, 
individual  self-assertion,  and  there  was  a  curious  touch  of  defiance  in 
every  sentence  that  involved  a  direct  proposition.  This  quality  of 
their  speech,  coupled  with  a  degree  of  profanity  which  was  simply 
startling  in  its  originality,  its  redundancy,  and  its  obscurity  of  pur- 
pose, made  a  stranger  feel  as  if  a  fight  might  occur  at  any  moment. 
But  there  is  no  danger  of  anything  of  the  kind.  They  live  in  this 
atmosphere  of  exploitation  and  brag,  with  entire  amicability  and 
good  nature,  and  only  fight  when  the  camps  break  up  and  the  men 
are  paid  off.  Then  they  congregate  at  the  lake  settlements  and 
elsewhere,  and  get  frightfully  drunk  for  weeks,  and  shoot  and  stab 
with  a  liberality  and  self-abnegation  that  suggest  that  they  ought 


iiii'iiilMi 


Decy-Huntiiig  on  the  An  Sable. 


239 


to  have  a  literature  built  fi)r  them  like  that  which  a  kind  and  artistic 
hand  has  so  deftly  erected  for  the  favored  miner  of  the  Pacific  slope. 
A  curious  effect  which  this  native  windiness  produces  upon  the 
stranger  who  comes  to  hunt  is,  that  after  a  week  of  it  he  finds  him- 
self impelled  to  the  conclusion  that  he  has  shot  the  only  small  deer 


A    LUMBKR-sl.KD. 


there  are  in  the  State.  We  could  not  meet  a  man  in  the  country  all 
about  that  had  ever  seen  a  small  deer.  The  word  fawn,  from  desue- 
tude, will  be  dropped  from  their  languai^e.  It  was  always  "the 
blankest  biggest  buck  !  blank  me  !"  or  "  the  blank,  blankest  blank  of 
a  blank  of  a  blank  doe  !  running  like  blank  and  blankation  for  the 
blank  river  !"  That  was  all  we  could  ever  get ;  and  when  perchance 
one  of  these  identical,  peculiarly  qualified  animals  happened  to  be 
shot,  the  speaker  stood  wholly  unabashed  and  luiconscious  in  the 
presence  of  his  refutation. 

We  left  Thompson's  hospitable  place  the  next  morning  after  an 
early  breakfast.  Curtis  and  his  team  carried  all  our  traps,  and  after 
a  tramp  of  two  hours  or  so  over  the  wet  sand  and  through  the  deso- 
late "burnings,"  we  arrived  at  Camp  Erwin.  It  is  a  deserted  logging 
camp.     The  building  on  the  left,  in  the  little  sketch  I  have  made,  is 


^ 


■*  1= 


'■/,•  1 


ifiiM 


,    .)  ■ 


240 


Devf-IIuntin^ir  on  the  .tn  SabU\ 


f.VMl'    KKWIN. 


a  rickety  old  barn  ;  that  behind  it  is  a  blacksmith's  shop,  and  the 
remaininj;'  house  is  that  in  which  we  had  our  (juarters.  It  contains, 
on  the  upper  floor,  one  large  and  finely  ventilated  apartment ;  and 
below,  the  kitchen,  dininy,  and  "livioif"  room  and  two  small  bed- 
rooms. One  of  these  was  occupied  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Ham- 
field,  the  latter  of  whom  had  enj^aged  to  cook  for  our  party,  while 
the  former,  a  stalwart  and  extraordinarily  powerful  backwoodsman, 
chopper,  and  blacksmith,  "  assisted."  and  made  himself  indispensable 
by  his  general  handiness  and  utility,  his  readiness  to  do  anything 
and  everything,  his  good  humor,  and  his  entire  novelty.  Recurring 
to  my  sketch  again  :  the  stream  in  the  foreground  flows  a  mile  away 
into  the  Au  Sable  (pronounced  up  here  .Sawble,  the  Au,  too,  being 
generally  dropped),  and  arouml  the  house,  as  far  as  one  may  see,  is 


nccy-lliintiiii^  on  the  ,tu  Sable. 


241 


the  cvorhisting^  "  l)urninj,f."  In  sumnnjr,  all  is  dry,  yi'ilow  saiul  ;  in 
winter,  a  mantle  of  snow  sometimes  covers  it  charitaMy  and  conceals 
some  of  the  blackness  and  di'formily  of  the;  dead  pines. 


■■Hfi-r, 

■ 

■■:jr- 

ON    TlIK    AU    SAIll.K. 


The  first  day  in  camp  was  devoted  to  unpackinj^  our  traps  and 
provisions,  filling  our  ticks  with  straw,  disposing  handily  of  our 
various  knickknacks,  overhauling  the  rifles,  and  wasting  ammunition 
under  excuse  of  getting  one's  hand  in.  My  share  being  accom- 
plished at  noon,  some  of  us  started  down  to  take  a  look  at  the  Au 
Sable  River.  .After  a  walk  of  fifteen  minutes  or  so,  we  came  out  of 
the  forest  abruptly  on  the  {ii.\<-^>^  of  a  high  sand-bluff,  and  there  it  lay 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  below  us.  It  came  around  a  short 
bend  above  ;  it  swept  around  another  in  front  of  us,  and  below  us  it 
wound  around  a  third.  Its  wati^rs  were  the  color  of  dark-brown 
sherry,  and  its  current  was  silent,  swift,  and  powerfiil.  Heyond,  the 
bank  was  low,  and  the  forest  stretched  back  over  successions  of 
slightly  rising  plateaus  to  the  horizon.  Here  and  there  one  could 
see  the  scars  of  the  fires,  and  a  sinuous  track  of  the  darkest  foliage 
16 


!;  i 


Mil 


P 


II 


242 


Decr-Hitnting  on  the  Ati  Sable. 


f    ' 


tw 


revealed  the  tortuous  course  of  the  Au  Sable.  This  description  would 
seem  to  apply  well  enough  to  the  sketch  I  have  made,  but  it  was  taken 
from  a  higher  bluff  some  few  miles  further  down  the  river.  rVom  any 
similar  elevation  upon  its  banks  the  scene  would  be  the  same.  Save 
that  the  river  gains  in  volume  as  it  travels,  its  .scenery  throughout 
almost  its  entire  length  does  not  vary.  It  is  a  succession  of  inter- 
minable twists  and  turns  past  high  or  low  bluffs  of  sand,  long  reaches 
of  "cedar-swamp,"  and  "  sweepers"  innumerable.  This  singular  river 
is  one  that  knows  neither  droughts  nor  freshets,  which  is  always  cold, 
but  never  freezes,  and  which  will  always  preserve  its  wildness  and  its 
desolation,  since,  in  the  future,  the  wilderness  through  which  it  flows 
will  be  even  wilder  and  more  desolate  than  it  is  now. 

The  first  evening  in  camp,  around  the  council  lamp,  was  spent 
in  discussing  the  prospects  of  the  morrow,  in  shooting  over  again  all 
the  deer  that  had  been  shot  upon  previous  occasions,  in  comparing  the 
target  shooting  of  the  day,  and  in  the  assignment  by  the  captain  of 
each  man  to  his  position  on  the  river,  Curtis  and  two  of  our  party 
were  to  "  put  out  the  dogs,"  and  the  rest  were  to  be  stationed  at  the 
different  run-ways.  This  explains  the  method  of  hunting.  The  river 
for  a  certain  number  of  miles  was  divided  into  run-ways  or  points, 
at  which  deer,  when  hard  pressed  by  the  dogs,  would  probably  take 
to  the  water  and  afford  a  chance  for  a  shot.  The  dogs,  twelve  in 
number,  were  divided  among  those  who  were  to  have  charge  of  them 
for  the  day,  and  they  took  them  in  various  directions  into  the  forest. 
When  a  fresh  and  promising  track  was  discovered,  a  dog  was  let 
loose  upon  it,  or  perhaps  two  dogs,  and  the  deer,  after  a  run  of 
greater  or  less  duration,  took  to  the  river  in  order  to  elude  pursuit. 
If  it  went  in  at  a  guarded  run-way,  it  stood  an  excellent  chance  of 
being  shot;  but,  of  course,  a  large  majority  of  deer  driven  in  entered 
the  river  above  or  below,  or  crossed  it  shortly  after  reaching  it. 

A  tick  filled  with  straw  and  laid  upon  the  floor  makes  an 
excellent  bed,  and  sportsmen's  consciences  are  always  good,  for  they 
sleep  with  exceeding  soundness.  The  ventilation  of  the  apartment  was 
generous  in  the  extreme.  The  roof  was  tight,  but  all  around  were 
the  open  chinks  between  the  logs,  and  through  these  the  stars  could 
be  seen  by  anybody  that  had  nothing  better  to  do  than  look  at  them. 
Up  through  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  out  through  a  big  hole  at  the 
ridge-pole  went   the  stove-i)ipe,    always   hot  enough   to    worry  an 


Deey-Hunting  on  the  Au  Sable. 


243 


insurance  man,  and  an  excellent  spot  to  hang  wet  clothes.  Else- 
where it  was  as  cold  as  charity,  and  I  supplemented  my  blankets 
with  my  heavy  frieze  ulster,  and  went  to  sleep  to  dream  of  giant 
bucks  and  a  rifle  that  wouldn't  go  off. 

The  Michigan  forests  abound  in  iv  variety  of  game,  but  the  ani- 
mals that  are  valued  for  their  fur  have  been  thinned  out  by  trappers, 
who,  in  turn,  have  disappeared  to  newer  hunting-fields.  One  still 
finds  the  beaver,  marten,  fisher,  lynx,  and  others.  Bears  are  quite 
numerous,  and  there  are  plenty  of  wolves.  Rabbits  and  Arctic  hares 
and  ruffed  grouse  exist  in  great  numbers.  The  elk  has  almost 
wholly  disappeared  from  the  peninsula,  but  I  heard  that  some  were 
occasionally  found  in  the  extreme  northern  portion,  and  I  saw  a 
magnificent  pair  of  antlers,  having  a  spread  of  nearly  six  feet,  which  a 
half-breed  had  found  imbedded  in  the  trunk  of  a  cedar-tree.  The 
skin  of  the  head  and  the  greater  portion  of  the  skull  were  attached, 
the  remainder  having  been  torn  away  and  scattered  by  wolves. 
The  deer  of  the  region  is  the  Ccrvtis  Virginiamis,  or  common  deer 
of  America,  which  is  distributed  over  such  a  large  area  of  our  conti- 
nent. It  probably  attains  its  greatest  weight  in  Michigan.  I  learned, 
from  credible  sources,  of  bucks  which  weighed  over  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds.  Judge  John  Dean  Caton,  in  his  admirable  work  on  the 
deer  and  antelope  of  America,  speaks  of  having  killed  a  buck  in 
Wisconsin  that  was  estimated  to  weigh  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, 
and  adds  that  the  largest  common  deer  of  which  he  had  any  authentic 
account  was  killed  in  Michigan  and  weighed,  undressed,  two  hun- 
dred and  forty-six  pounds.  Of  the  deer  killed  by  our  party,  there 
were  no  less  than  three  that  weighed  over  two  hundred  anrl  twenty- 
five  pounds.  It  is  the  most  beautiful  of  the  cervidfc,  and  in  its 
graceful  carriage,  its  exquisite  agility,  and  the  delicacy  and  sym- 
metry of  its  form,  no  other  animal  approaches  it.  It  varies  some- 
what, of  course  ;  but  tlie  buck,  with  the  shorter  legs,  the  rounded 
and  compact  body,  the  tapering  nose  and  the  well-erected,  open 
antlers  is  the  proudest  and  handsomest  animal  oi  the  forest.  The 
eye  of  the  deer  is  large  and  has  the  softest  and  most  tender  of  'Ex- 
pressions. The  marked  convexity  of  the  ball,  the  deep,  calm,  ..r.d 
gentle  radiance  of  the  iris,  and  the  length  of  the  shadow-line  from 
the  larmier  to  the  posterior  angle  of  the  lids  make  up  the  more  obvi- 
ous anatomy  of  this  amiability.     In  the  rutting  season,  which  occurs 


m 


It 


I  %  \m 


'  f 


,  (ii 


244 


Dcey-Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


during  the  earlier  part  of  the  winter,  the  b-icks  discard  their  gentle- 
ness in  a  great  measure  and  fight  in  the  fiercest  way.  It  is  doubtful 
if  they  ever  kill  or  seriously  injure  each  other,  formidable  as  their 
antlers  are  when  they  have  sharpened  and  polished  them  by  persist- 
ent rubbing  against  the  bark  of  young  trees.  They  charge  at  each 
other,  head  down,  and  meet  with  a  crash,  and  then  stand  or  walk 
round  and  roun.j  in  a  circle,  with  interlocked  antlers,  swaying  to  and 
fro,  and  moodily  watching  each  other's  every  movement.  They  con- 
tinue at  this  sort  of  thing  for  hours,  and  superior  prowess  is  more 
a  matter  of  endurance  and  pertinacity  than  anything  else.  It  would 
seem  that  the  buck  that  holds  out  the  longer  completely  wears  out 
and  exhausts  his  antagonist,  who  then  withdraws  and  leaves  him 
victor, — whereby  the  stronger  and  more  favored  males  carry  off  the 
females  and  beget  offspring  possessed,  by  heredity  and  otherwise, 
of  the  same  characteristics.  The  argument  finds  a  strong  illustra- 
tion in  the  case  of  the  deer,  and  backwoodsmen  say  that  the  younger 
and  weaker  males  go  unmated  and  are  constantly  being  pursued  and 
driven  about  by  the  stronger  and  older  bucks.  Some  of  these  com- 
bats between  the  bucks  result  in  mutual  disaster  when  the  antlers 
interlock  and  they  are  unable  to  withdraw  from  each  other.  They 
probably  could  if  they  made  the  effort  at  once,  but  they  butt  and 
push  at  each  other,  and  each  so  studiously  avoids  giving  the  other 
an  opening,  that  both  are  too  exhausted  to  make  the  effort  at  separa- 
tion, and  there  they  .remain  until  the  wolves  arrive  on  the  scene 
and  close  the  drama.  Our  backwoodsman  had  recently  found  two 
bleached  skulls  with  antlers  fast  in  each  other's  embrace,  mutely  tell- 
ing a  dark  tale  of  love,  jealousy,  and  a  wedding  unavoidably  post- 
poned. The  fawns,  betraying  by  their  spots  a  former  characteristic 
of  their  species,  are  timid,  pretty  little  things.  They  do  not  seem  to 
have  the  instinct  which  leads  the  adult  animal  to  the  water  when 
pursued,  and  consequently  when  a  dog  gets  on  the  scent  of  a  fawn, 
he  will  hunt  it  bootlessly  for  hours,  to  the  great  annoyance  of  his 
master.  A  young  fawn,  just  born,  knows  no  fear  of  man.  If  picked 
up,  fondled  a  few  minutes,  and  carried  a  little  distance,  it  will,  when 
put  down,  follow  a  man  just  as  it  would  its  mother. 

.\  tremendous  uproar  awoke  me  at  the  moment  when  for  the 
hundredth  time  my  rifle  had  exasperated  me.  It  was  Mr.  Ii.,  .shout- 
ing, "  Breakfast!  breakfast !   Turn  out  for  breakfast !    The  captain's 


Deer-Hiiuting  on  the  An  Sable. 


245 


up  and  waiting!"  It  was  half-past  four,  and  everybody  woke  up  at 
the  summons,  as  was  indeed  unavoidable.  There  was  a  scratching 
of  matches  and  a  discordant  chorus  of  those  sounds  which  people 
make  when  they  are  forcibly  awakened  and  made  to  get  up  in  the 
cold,  unusual  mdrning.  Down-stairs  there  was  a  prodigious  sizzling 
and  sputtering  going  on,  and  the  light  through  the  chinks  in  the 
floor  betrayed  Mrs.  Bamfield  and  her  frying-pans  and  coffee-pot,  all 
in  full  blast.  Somebody  projected  his  head  through  an  immature 
window  into  the  outer  air  and  brought  it  in  again  to  remark  that  it 
rained.  A  second  observation  made  it  rain  and  snow,  and  rain  and 
snow  it  was, — a  light,  steady  fall  of  both.  We  were  all  down-stairs 
in  a  few  minutes  and  outside,  making  a  rudimentary  toilet  with  ice- 
water  and  a  bar  of  soap.  Breakfast  was  ready, —  plenty  of  rashers 
of  bacon,  fried  and  boiled  potatoes,  tried  onions,  bread  and  butter, 
and  coffee,  hot  and  strong.  These  were  speedily  disposed  of  Coats 
were  buttoned  up,  rubber  blankets  and  ammunition  belts  slung  over 
shoulders,  cartridge  magazines  filled,  hatchets  stuck  into  l)elts,  rifles 
shouldered,  and  out  we  sallied  into  the  darkness,  through  which  the 
faintest  glimmer  of  gray  was  just  showing  in  the  east.  Half  an  hour 
or  so  later,  by  the  time  we  had  gotten  to  our  run-ways,  the  dogs 
would  be  put  out.  Off  we  trudged  over  the  wet,  packed  sand  of  the 
tote-road,  the  gray  dawn  breaking  dismally  through  the  wilderness. 
Leaving  the  road,  we  struck  into  the  pines,  and  a  walk  of  a  mile 
through  the  thick  sweet-fern,  which  drenched  one  to  the  waist, 
brought  us  to  the  edge  of  the  cedar  swamp  by  the  river.  The 
narrow  belt  of  low  bottom-land  on  each  side  of  the  river  is  called 
Cedar  Swamp.  It  is  a  jungle  through  which  it  is  e.xtremely  difficult 
to  progress,  and  in  which  one  may  very  readily  lose  one's  bearings. 
Great  cedars  grow  in  it  up  to  the  water's  edge,  and  as  thickly  as  they 
can  well  stand.  Among  them  lie  fallen  trees  in  every  stage  of  decay, 
heaped  one  upon  another  in  inextricable  and  hopeless  ruin  and  con- 
fusion. There  are  leaning  cedars  that  have  partly  toppled  over  and 
rested  against  their  stouter  fellows,  and  there  are  cedars  that  seem 
to  have  fallen  and  only  partly  risen  again.  Their  trunks  run  for 
several  feet  along  the  ground  and  then  stretch  up  toward  the  light, 
in  a  vain  effort  to  become  erect  once  more.  These  trunks  and  all 
the  fallen  giants  are  covered  with  a  thick  carpet  of  the  softest  moss ; 
everything,  in  fact,  is  covered  with  it,  and  here  and  there  it  opens, 
i6.\ 


:%  \ 


\     \ 


lilt 


i ' 


: 


ja'iS  - 


246 


Deer-Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


and  down  in  the  rich  mold  is  a  glimpse  of  a  bright  little  wine- 
colored,  trickling  stream  stealing  in  and  out  among  the  cedar  roots 
and  losing  itself  in  miniature  tunnels  and  caverns  on  its  way  to  the 
river  outside.  One's  footfall  is  noiseless,  except  when  a  branch 
beneath  the  moss  breaks,  and  the  sunlight  struggles  but  feebly  down 


through  the  trunks  and  dense  foliage  above.  Sometimes  the  walking 
is  treacherous,  and  the  giant  forms  that  lie  about  are  hollow  mock- 
eries and  deceptions  beneath  their  pretty  wrapping  of  green.  .Stand- 
ing upon  one  of  these,  and  doubtful  whether  to  attempt  a  leap  or 
more  circumspectly  climb  to  my  next  vantage-point.  I  executed  a 
sudden  disappearance,  much  after  the  fashion  of  a  harlequin  in  a 
pantomime.  A  hole  opened  beneath  my  feet,  and  I  shot  through 
that  hollow  shell  into  the  swamp  beneath,  leaving  my  broad-brimmed 
hat  to  cover  the  aperture  by  which  I  made  my  exit. 

After  a  couple  of  hundred  yards  of  climb,  crawl,  and  tumble 
through  one  of  these  swamps,  my  companion  took  his  place  under 
the  shelter  of  the  cedars,  and  indicated  mine  at  a  little  distance  up 
the  river.  It  was  one  of  the  best  of  our  run-ways, — a  long  stretch  of 
open  bank,  where  the  cedar  swamp  did  not  reach  the  river's  edge. 
I  got  there,  took  my  stand,  and  indulged  in  exjiectation.  The  exer- 
tion of  getting  through  the  swamp  had  warmed  me  uncomfortably, 


m 


! ) 


Deer-Hunting  on  the  Au  Sable. 


247 


but  I  soon  ceased  to 
regard    that    as    an 
objection.   The  place 
was  exposed  ;    there 
was  no  shelter ;   the 
cold    wind    and    the 
driving  snow  and 
rain    had    it   all 
their    own    way 
with    me.       My 
hands       became 
numb,    and    the 
metal  of  my  rifle 


stung  them.  I  did  not  put  on  my 
heavy  gloves,  lest  a  deer  shoukl 
come  and  they  should  prove  an  awkward  impediment.  I  stood 
my  rifle  against  a  tree,  stuck  them  in  my  pockets,  and  watched 
the  river,  while  my  teeth  chattered  like  miniature  castanets.  The 
wind  howled  down  through  the  trees,  antl  clouds  of  yellow  and 
russet  leaves  came  sailing  into  the  river  and  hurried  away  upon 
its  surface.  I  was  undeniably,  miserably  cold.  But  hark !  I 
seized  my  rifle.  Yes,  there  it  was,  sure  enough,  the  bay  of  a 
dog  in  the  distance  !  I  forgot  to  be  cold.  Nearer  it  came,  and 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  each  moment  I  thought  would  bring  the 
deer  crashing  through  the  thickets  into  the  river.  Nearer  and  nearer 
the  dogs  came,  until  their  deep  bays  resounded  anil  echoed  through 
the  forest  as  if  they  were  in  a  great  hall.  Hut  no  deer  appeared,  and 
the  dogs  held  their  course,  on,  down,  parallel  with  the  river.  "  Bet- 
ter luck  next  time,"  I  said  to  myself,  somewhat  disconsolately  ;  but  1 
was  disappointed.  Presently  the  sharp,  ringing  crack  of  a  rifle  rang 
out  and  reverberated  across  the  forest ;  another  and  another  followed; 
and  as  I  began  to  get  cold  again,  I  tried  to  console  myself  by  medi- 
tating on  the  luck  of  other  peo[)le.  I  stamped  my  feet ;  I  did  the 
London  cabman's  exercise  with  my  hands  and  arms  ;    I  drew  beads 


\'s 


J5'r    11 


1! 


i> 


248 


Deer-Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


■W| 


-il  : 


I  i 


on  all  manner  of  objects ;  but  steadfastly  I  watched  the  river,  and 
steadfastl\-  I  listened  for  the  dogs.  The  snow  and  rain  abated,  and 
the  hours  went  by  ;  and  stiff  and  chilled  was  I  when,  at  half-past 
twelve,  young  Curtis's  canoe  came  poling  up  the  river  to  pick  up 
deer  if  any  had  been  shot  above,  and  had  lodged  in  the  drift-wood, 
instead  of  floating  down  to  his  watching-i)lace,  three  miles  below. 
The  dogs  were  all  in,  he  said,  and  the  doctor  had  shot  a  big  buck 
and  a  fawn. 

At  camp,  the  doctor  was  the  center  of  an  animated  circle.      He 
was  most  unreasonably  composed,  as  I   thought,  and  told  us,  with 


Deer-Hiiuting  on  the  An  Sable. 


249 


his  German  equanimity,  how  jack  and  Pedro  had  run  in  a  large 
buck,  which  immediately  swam  down  the  middle  of  the  river.  He 
fired  from  his  place  on  the  side  of  a  bluff  and  missed.  At  the 
second  shot,  he  succeeded  in  hitting  the  deer  in  the  neck  just  below 
the  mastoid  something  or  other.  As  if  this  were  not  sufficient,  there 
presently  appeared  and  crossed  the  river  a  very  pretty  fawn,  whose 
young  hopes  were  promptly  blighted.  They  said  it  was  not  always 
that  the  first  day  yielded  even  one  deer,  and  it  was  an  excellent 
augury.  During  the  afternoon,  Curtis  brought  both  deer  up  to 
camp  and  dressed  them.  The  buck  was  finely  antlered  and  was 
estimated  to  weigh  over  two  himdred  pounds. 

The  next  day  I  was  appointed  to  the  same  run-way,  and  I  took 
my  stand,  and,  acting  on  the  advice  of  the  others,  built  a  brave  little 
fire.  Deer  being  driven  into  the  river  or  swimming  down  it  pay  no 
attention  to  a  small  fire,  and  the  making  of  it  and  the  keeping  it 
alive  furnish  excellent  occupation.  Indeed,  there  is  something  quite 
fascinating  about  building  a  fire  in  the  woods,  and  it  is  quite 
inexplicable  what  a  deep  concern  all  the  little  details  of  its  com- 
bustion create  in  even  really  thoughtful  minds.  My  fire  burned 
cheerily  and  blew  lots  of  sharp  smoke  into  my  eyes,  with  the  aid  of 
the  fitful  wind ;  but  I  was  not  called  upon  to  shoot  any  deer.  I  did 
not  even  hear  the  dogs,  and  at  two  o'clock  1  went  home  to  camo, 
persuaded  that  I  had  not  yet  learned  to  appreciate  our  style  of 
hunting.  Our  captain  had  a  handsome  )oung  buck  and  was  in  a 
wholly  comfortable  frame  of  mind. 

We  had  a  larded  saddle  of  venison  durintj  the  afternoon  for 
dinner.  It  was  flanked  by  a  dish  of  steaming  bacon  and  cabbage 
and  quantities  of  mealy  potatoes  and  fried  onions.  The  fragrance 
that  filled  the  air  of  the  cabin  surpassed  the  most  delicate  of  vapors 
that  ever  escaped  from  one  of  Delmonico's  covers,  and  we  fell  upon 
the  table  with  appetites  like  that  of  the  gifted  ostrich.  The  air  of  the 
Sable  would  be  worth  any  amount  of  money  in  New  York. 

The  next  day  I  passed  in  a  meditative  fashion  on  my  run-way.  I 
was  not  disturbed  by  any  deer,  but  Mr.  M.  and  Mr.  B.  each  scored 
one.  The  next  evening,  one  of  the  dogs,  foot-sore  and  worn  out, 
remained  in  the  woods.  His  master  and  one  other  sallied  out  into  the 
inky  darkness  to  look  for  him  at  points  near  which  they  deemed  it 
probable  he  would  have  lain  down.     They  took  a  lantern,  without 


^«Mi!;; 


ii  1 


i! 


i:ii!i 


V\ 


■«! 


i)P  r- 


Ill  I  -.III 
11 


If-* 


m 


r    ! 


!•  -t 


il,. 


I 


250 


Deer-Htmting  on  the  Aii  Sable. 


il 


A    GENERAL    Sl'KPRISE. 


which  it  would  have  been  impossible  to  walk,  and  after  a  fruitless 
search,  extending  to  a  distance  of  three  miles  or  so,  turned  back. 
Suddenly  they  heard  light  footfalls  in  the  tote-road,  and  with  two 
or  three  beautiful  bounds  a  young  doe  alighted  within  the  circle 
illuminated  by  the  lantern,  approached  it  in  wide-eyed  wonder,  and 
almost  touched  it  with  her  nose.  A  young  spike-horn  buck  followed 
her,  and  both  stared  at  the  light,  their  nostrils  dilated  and  quivering, 
and  every  limb  trembling  with  mingled  excitement  and  fear.  There 
was  an  exclamation  that  could  not  be  suppressed,  a  vain  effort  to 
shoot,  and  the  deer  were  gone  like  a  flash  into  the  darkness.    It  was 


n 

''■Ml 


Deer- H tinting  on  the  Ati  Sable. 


251 


curious  to  hear  both  gentlemen,  on  returning  to  camp,  protesting 
that  to  have  shot  deer  under  such  circumstances  would  have  been 
wholly  unsportsmanlike. 

It  was  upon  my  sixth  day,  when  a  dozen  deer  were  hanging  in 
the  barn,  and  I,  quite  guiltless  of  the  death  of  even  one  of  them, 
had  gone  to  the  river.  The  hours  passed  tediously  up  to  noon, 
when  I  heard  a  splash,  and  saw  a  deer  take  the  water  three  hundred 
yards  or  so  above  me.  She  was  a  large  doe  and  came  down  the 
middle  of  the  river,  swimming  rapidly  and  looking  anxiously  from 
side  to  side.  I  felt  unutterable  things,  and  just  as  she  got  abreast 
of  me  I  brought  up  my  Winchester  and  fired.  She  sank,  coming  up 
again  some  little  distance  down,  and  floated  quietly  away  out  of  my 
sight  around  the  bend.  This  performance  produced  a  sense  of 
pleasant  inflation.  All  my  fears  were  dispelled,  and  I  felt  a  keen 
desire  for  the  presence  of  others  to  whom  to  impart  the  agreeable 
fact.  It  was  one  of  those  things  about  which  one  always  feels  as  if 
he  could  not,  unaided,  sufiiciently  gloat  upon  it.  At  half-past  twelve, 
the  canoe  came  around  the  bend,  and  I  prepared  to  be  indifferent,  as 
should  become  a  person  who  could  shoot  deer  every  day  if  only  he 
were  so  minded.     Strange,  I  thought,  that  the  legi's  do  not  project 

over  the  side  of  the  canoe,  and  how  is  it  that At  this  moment 

the  canoe  gave  a  lurch,  and  I  saw  young  Curtis's  coat  with  painful 
distinctness  lying  in  the  bottom  of  it, — nothing  else.  I  immediately 
inferred  that  he  had  missed  the  deer  among  some  drift-logs  as  he 
came  up.  He  protested  he  had  not,  but  agreed  to  go  back  and 
search.  I  went  with  him,  and  just  a  few  yards  around  the  bend  we 
found  in  the  oozy  bank  tracks  which  indicated  that  the  animal  had 
fallen  to  its  knees  in  leaving  the  water,  and  up  the  bank  to  the  top  a 
trail  marked  with  blood.  The  remarks  of  Mr.  Curtis,  though  fluent 
and  vigorous,  wert^  inadequate  to  the  occasion.  I  was  in  a  condition 
of  unbounded  exasperation  For  a  little  distance  through  the  grass 
and  the  bushes  the  marks  could  be  s(;en  plainlj'  enough,  but  there 
they  disappeared,  and  that  was  tlie  last  1  saw  of  my  deer.  The  cap- 
tain put  two  dogs  out  on  the  trail  that  afternoon,  but  the  wounded 
animal  had  probably  died  in  some  dense  thicket,  for  they  soon  re- 
turned without  having  run  any  great  distance.  Four  fine  deer  were 
killed  the  next  day,  without  any  participation  upon  my  part,  and  in 
the  evening  some  of  us,  with  lanterns,  went  down   to  the  river  to 


\V.  ! 


'im 


i  !'|] 


lliii 


I'M 


252 


Dccy-Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


i:  I' 


liiRClI    OF    THE    Al'    SABl.K, 


secure  one  that  had  lod<jecl  somewhere  in  the  drift-wood.  We 
found  it,  by  the  hght  of  the  birch-bark.  As  we  made  our  way  along 
the  bank,  our  backwoodsman  would  pick  out  here  and  there  a  large 
white  birch,  and  apply  a  match  to  the  curling  ringlets  of  bark  at  the 
foot  of  its  trunk.  In  a  minute  the  whole  stem  of  the  tree  was  in  a 
roaring  blaze,  that  lit  up  the  river-bank  all  round  about  and  made 
the  great  cedars  look  like  gigantic  skeletons.  Each  birch  was  a  brill- 
iant spectacle,  while  it  burned  in  a  crackling,  sparkling  column  of 
flame,  sending  showers  of  sparks  through  the  forest,  and  then  dying 
out  in  an  angry  red  and  a  cloud  of  murky  smoke.  Our  deer  was 
found,  dressed,  and  hung  up  on  a  dead  cedar,  (Hit  of  the  reach  of 
predatory  animals  ;  and  we  went  home  to  camp  by  the  light  of  our 
lanterns. 


Deer- Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


253 


Next  morning  I  was  at  my  place,  still  unsubdued  and  hopeful.  1 
heard  a  shot  fired  on  the  river  below  me ;  1  heard  the  baying  of  the 
dogs,  and  listened  to  it  as  it  died  away  in  the  direction  of  some  other 
run-way.  Hut  I  watched  steadily  ;  and  as  I  watched,  1  saw  the  brush 
about  some  cedar  roots  open,  and  out  there  sprang  into  the  shallow 
water  a  noble  buck.  He  was  a  stalwart,  thick-set  fellow  ;  his  legs 
were  short  and  compact,  his  fur  was  dark  in  its  winter  hue,  and  his 
antlers  glistened  above  his  head.  He  bore  himself  proudly  as  he 
stood  in  the  water  and  turned  to  listen  for  the  bay  of  the  dogs  he 
had  outrun.  I  hesitated  a  moment,  doubtful  if  1  should  let  him  get 
into  the  stream  and  swim  down,  or  shoot  at  him  as  he  stood.  I  chose 
the  latter,  aimed  (juietly  and  confidently,  and  fired.  He  pitched  for- 
ward, the  current  .seized  him,  and  he  floated  down  with  it  and  past 

me,  dead.      In  eight  minutt;s,  by  my  watch,  Mr.  M 's  Jack  came 

to  the  bank,  at  the  spot  where  the  buck  had  come  in,  and  howled 
grievously  over  the  lost  scent.  He  was  worn  out  and  battered,  and 
he  came  to  me  gladly  when  I  called  him.  I  had  brought  some 
luncheon  down  with  me  that  morning,  and  I  must  confess  that  I  was 
weak  enough  to  give  Jack  every  bit  of  it. 

That  afternoon,  when  I  reached  camp,  I  found  that  I  was  the  last 
to  come  in.  and  that  my  buck  had  already  been  seen  and  his  size 
noted.  I  was  received  with  acclamations,  and  a  proposition  to  gird 
me,  as  a  measure  of  affected  precaution,  with  the  hoops  of  a  flour- 
barrel  was  made  and  partly  carried  into  execution.  There  were 
sung,  moreover,  sundry  snatches  of  the  forester's  chorus  from  "  As 
You  Like  It": 

"  What  shall  he  have  that  killed  the  deer  ?  " 


Of  the  Au  Sable  as  a  navigable  river,  I  am  pained  to  state  that 
I  cannot  speak  in  a  way  calculated  to  allure  people  thither  for  the 
purpose  of  sailing  upon  it.  Three  of  us  were  induced  by  our  back- 
woodsman to  embark  upon  a  raft  and  make  a  run  of  fifteen  miles  to 
Thompson's.  We  did  so,  and  failed  to  ac(}uire  upon  the  journey  an\- 
marked  prejudice  in  favor  of  that  particular  form  of  navigation.  Ce- 
dars growing  at  the  water's  edge  have  their  roots  more  or  less  under- 
mined, and  some  of  them  fall  gradually  outward  over  the  river,  their 
branches  hanging  in  the  current  and  becoming  denuded  of  their  foli- 
age, or  dying.    The  trunk  or  stem  of  the  tree  is  in  some  cases  parallel 


m  >m 


\-\  .i 


254 


Decr-Hiiuting  on  the  Ah  Sable. 


s      •• 


1       ! 


m. 


with  the  water's  surface,  and  in  others  it  dips  below  it  or  inclines 
gradually  upward  from  it.  I'hese  trees  have  been  named,  with  a 
nice  sense  of  the  fitness  of  terms,  "sweepers. "  We  found  them  such. 
Our  raft  was  guided  by  poles,  one  aft  and  the 
other  forward.  A  vigorous  use  of  tiiese  might 
have  had  something  to  do  with  determining  the 
course  of  the  craft,  but  one  was  dropped  and 
another  broken,  and  she  forthwith  proceeded  to 
work  her  sweet  will  of  us.  She 
seemed  possessed  of  a  mis- 
chievous intelligence,  and  if  an 
obstruction  came  in  view,  made 
directly  for  it. 
There  was  gen- 
erally room  for 
her  to  pass  be- 
neath a  "sweep- 
er," which  she 
always  did ;  but 
it  was  different 
with  the  passen- 
gers, who,  with  a  couple  of  un- 
happy dogs,  were  rasped  from  one 
end  of  her  to  the  other,  some- 
times into  the  water,  and  some- 
times only  half  into  it,  but  always 
holding  on  to  the  logs  with  grim  desperation. 

When  the  day  arrived  for  breaking  up  camp, 
we  had  hung  up  in  our  barn  twenty-three  deer, 
my  buck  being  accorded  the  place  of  honor  at 
the  head  of  the  line.  Our  dogs  were  rather 
the  worse  for  wear,  but  all  were  there,  which  is  something  un- 
usual at  the  end  of  a  hunt  in  this  part  of  the  country.  The  fact 
is,  the  natives  discourage  hunting  with  dog.s,  if  not,  indeed,  all 
hunting  in  which  they  themselves  do  not  participate.  They  pi 
meat  which  contains  strychnine  on  the  deer-paths,  and  also,  \v 
occasion  offers,  shoot  the  dogs.  A  party  of  gentlemen  from  Bii^ 
City    came    into    our    neighborhood    a    few    days    later    than    we 


I    <l 


Decy- Hunting  on  the  An  Sable. 


255 


did.  They  contemplated  a  three  weeks'  hunt,  hut  ihirinj,'  the  first 
three  days  had  two  ih)j,fs  shot  and  three  poisoned.  Some  years 
aj^jo,  a  party  of  Ohio  people  lost  their  dogs  in  the  same  way.  and, 
unUickily  for  the  active  toxicolojfist,  they  found  out  who  he  was. 
When  I  pass(;d  that  way  he  had  rebuilt  his  hams  and  various  out- 
buildinjjs,  and  it  was  thouj^ht  that,  until  the  region  commanded  the 
services  of  a  reliable  insurance  company,  he  would  abstain  from  the 
use  of  strychnine.  The  immunity  our  |)arty  enjoyed  had  been  gained 
somewhat  as  an  ancient  proprietary  right,  they  having  hunted  there 
for  so  many  years.  Besides,  they  had  in  various  ways  rentlered 
themselves  popular  with  the  natives ;  no  visitor  ever  left  the  camp 
hungry  or  thirsty;  and  the  Herr  Doctor's  periodicity  was  a  matter 
of  importance  to  a  widely  spread,  if  not  numerous,  community. 
They  saved  up  fractures  of  six  months'  standing  for  him,  and  events 
of  a  more  strictly  domestic  nature  .seemed  to  happen  adventitiously 
during  his  hunting  .sojourn. 

We  brought  out  our  venison  .safely  and  in  good  condition, —  a 
ton  and  a  half  of  it  or  thereabouts.  At  Detroit,  we  went  our  ways, 
ending  an  expedition  which  had  in  it,  luckily,  no  mishap  to  mar  it, 
but  plenty  of  whole.some  recreation  to  make  one's  recollection  of  it 
wholly  pleasant. 


I 


A    TON    AND    A    IIALI     Ol-    VENISON. 


'  rf, 


'i.t 


m 


r  n 


4* 


m  (11 


f  •' 


if 


HI 


HUNTING    THE    MULE-DEER    IN    COLORADO. 


SAYS  a  well-known  sportsman,*  in  a  work  recently  issued  for 
the  use  of  the  fraternity,  "  Good  hunting  is  at  present  scarcely 
to  be  found  east  of  the  Missouri  River.  West  of  that  stream, 
however,  there  is  a  wide  extent  of  territory  in  many  parts  of  which 
game  may  still  be  found  in  considerable  abundance  by  those  who  are 
sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  country  to  know  where  to  look  for 
it.  *  *  *  As  things  stand  at  present,  the  country  where  game 
most  abounds  is  that  which  is  now,  or  lately  has  been,  infested  by 
the  Indians.  *  *  *  The  Indians  are  the  only  real  game  preservers 
in  the  West." 

That  portion  of  the  new  State  of  Colorado  lying  west  of  the  main 
range  and  north  of  the  San  Juan  mining  region  is  perhaps  one  of 
the  very  best  of  these  localities :  certainly  the  most  accessible  and 
j)racticable  at  a  moderate  expenditure  of  money  and  time.  Here 
in  four  days,  by  rail  from  New  York  City,  one  may  mount  a  well- 
trained  animal  and  plunge  at  once  into  the  primeval  wilds.  Here 
are  the  gate-ways  of  the  great  parks,  in  and  surrounding  which  are 
thousands  of  square  miles  suited  by  nature  to  the  purpos'i  of  a 
stronghold  from  which  the  game  can  ne\er  be  wholh'  driven.  Just 
Avithin  its  farther  limit  is  die  Ute  reservation,  and  it-  bulk  is  almost 
debatable  ground, — the  I.idians  hunt'.ng  here,  and  loath  to  yield  to 
the  whites  entire  possession  of  their  richest  grounds  and  their  great 
medicine  waters,  t.ie  Hot  Springs  of  Middle  Park.  Legislation  has 
been  pending  for  a  few  years  past,  which  will  probably  limit  these 

*  Charles  Hallock,  of  "  Forest  and  Stream,"  in  "  The  Sportsman's  Gazeteer,"  jiages 
71  and  74. 

17 


?  ^ 


* 


258 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Colomdo. 


friendly  savages  to  a  more  remote  point,  and  then  the  most  timid  of 
pilgrims  ma)-  revel  in  the  plenty  of  a  region  where  I  have  seen  five 
thousand  elk  in  view  at  once, — the  number  estimated  by  men  of  life- 
long experience  as  herders, — and  where  I  have  known  one  man  to 
kill  forty  bulls  at  a  single  stand.  INIay  a  merciful  Providence  im.pel 
our  legislators  to  invent  some  means  of  controlling  the  waste  of  this 
wealth!  Hut,  as  I  liave  said,  total  extermination  is  im[)ossil)le. 
This  is  demonstrated  in  the  case  of  the  animal  1  am  about  to 
describe,  which  iiersists  in  using  even  those  foot-hill  regions  of 
Boulder  County,  where  mining,  milling,  grazing,  and  agriculture 
make  together  one  of  the  thriftiest  localities  of  the  new  West.  Year 
after  year  he  continues  to  startle  the  plowman  or  the  herders  by  his 
sudden  appearance,  and  a  fortunate  i)istol-shot  sometimes  secures 
him  for  the  larder ;  but  of  hunting,  properK .  there  is  little  done  now 
in  the  regions  of  the  great  tellurium  disccieries.  that  ha\e  converted 
into  swarming  camps  the  hills  over  which,  during  my  novitiate.  I 
ranged  with  Hank  (.ireen.  the  Tourtillots.  "Big"  Osborne,  and  old 
Levi  Van  Rensselaer.  If  any  of  the  Boukk^r  boys  wish  to  enjoy 
a  good  old-fashioned  hunt  to-da\  the\-  go  up  to  .St.  X'rains.  Big 
Thompson,  or  the  Cache  La  Poudre,  or  over  the  range  into  North  or 
Middle  Park.  P'rom  this  region  west  and  south  is  the  heart  of  the 
hunting,  particularly  in  that  portion  reached  by  the  (lunnison  and 
its  tributaries.  Here  roam  all  the  varieties  of  game  animals  known 
to  this  latitude  in  America,  with,  I  believe,  one  e.xception :  the  retl. 
or  Virginia,  deer  has  never  been  found  west  of  the  range,  except  as  a 
mongrel.  If  desirable,  the  element  of  danger  may  be  .sought  in  pur- 
suit of  the  range  and  cinnamon, — the  first  a  cousin  of  the  true  I'rsns 
liorribilis.  somewhat  stunted  by  change  of  habitat,  but  none  the  less 
ugly. — or  the  less  ferocious  brown  and  black  bears,  or  the  puma  (of 
whom  beware  !),  or  the  other  cats  and  lynxes,  or  the  sluggish  but 
courageous  wolverine. 

The  mule-deer  does  not  bear  an  undisputed  name.  I  knew  him 
at  first  as  the  black-tail,  as  he  is  almost  universally  called  here.  A 
recent  issue  of  the  "Rocky  Mountain  News"  contains  an  indignant 
protest  from  one  of  our  hunters  against  the  liberty  "  eastern  "  nat- 
uralists have  taken  in  rechristening,  as  he  supposes,  this  animal. 
The  fact  is.  however,  that  whether  the  difference  claimed  between 
this  variety  and  that  of  the  Pacific  coast  *  really  exists  or  not.  the 

*  Cariaciis  Columbia  11  us.  or  black-tail  (leer. 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Coloyado. 


259 


iir.A!)   f)K    riii:    mii.k-ukkk. 


name  mule-deer  was  recorded  by  Captains  I.ewis  antl  Clark  in  their 
reports  of  the  expeditions  of  1804  and  1806.  in  which  this  animal, 
with  the  black-tail  and  Viroinia  deer,  are  fully  described,  with  their 
mixtures  and  variations  and  respective  limits  of  habitat.  Probably 
the  two.  with  the  hnrro*  deer  of  Arizona,  may  prove  to  be  merely 
variations  of  the  same  animal,  as  new  admixtures  indicating  the 
blood  of  C.  vii-oiniaiius  are  sometimes  found  of  late,  and  I  have 
myself  noted,  among  some  hundreds  of  deer  killed  within  a  radius 
of  a  hundred  miles  from  Denver,  marked  variations  from  any  of 
the  descriptions  given  by  naturalists.  The  prominent  marks  of  this 
variety  are  those  which  give  the  name, — immensely  developed  ears, 
a  thin,  switchy,  and  brush -tipped  tail,  a  gray  and  black  color,  and  a 
general  air  of  sagacitx'  and  knowingness  not  belied  by  his  behavior 
in  the  fiekl.  Here  is  his  inventory:  .\  pair  of  immense  antl(!rs, 
main  beams  well  back,  prongs  straight  up.  I<"ull  length  of  I)eam  in 
a  well-grown  pair  measured  by  myself,  hfty-tive  inches  from  extreme 
point  to  its  opposite.  Aggregate  of  growth  in  this  instance,  beams 
and  prongs,  nine  feet  and  three-  inches.  Sixteen  well-develo])ed 
points  not  unusual,  though  ten  seems  the  normal  limit,  the  excess  of 
this  numlxM-  being  usually  irregular  in  position  and  ill  balanced, 
luirs,  eight  to  nine  inches  in  length,  in  almost  constant  motion. 
Large,  prominent,  and  beautiful  eyes.  Height,  five  and  a  half  to  six 
feet  to  antlers'  tips ;  about  four  at  the  haunches.  Hotly  round  and 
plump,  legs  slender  and  graceful,  and  small  feet,  seeming  utterlv 
inadetpiate  to  propel  the  two  to  three  humlred  |)ounds  weight  in  such 
wonderful  leaps  over  formidable  obstructions,   through    regions  of 


I'-;-- 


Ihinv.  S|)aiiish  name  for  the  ass  kind. 


I  (    ■!    ' 


$[ 

".',' 

■f"     ■: ' 

II 


i    '    -4 


Hi 


«f 


260 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Colorado. 


'(mP 


fallen  timber  and  rock,  almost  impassable  to  man.  His  coat  is  a  rich, 
warm  gray  or  drab,  shot  with  black  shadows  in  the  dorsal  region, 
where  the  hairs  are  heavy  and  erect,  and  each  has  a  tip  of  yellow 
and  dead  black.  A  gray  to  white  space,  from  a  downward  angle 
between  the  eyes,  extends  to  the  nose,  from  under  the  eyes  to  the  ears, 
and  softening  away  at  the  sides  of  the  neck,  stops  at  an  exact  line  a 
hand's  breadth  beneath  the  jaw.  The  chin,  witb  some  irregular 
touches  along  the  inner  portion  of  the  ear  usually,  the  flanks  and 
inside  of  thighs,  are  a  pure  white  ;  and  an  acorn-shaped  patch  of  the 
same  surrounds  the  tail,  which  itself  is  thin  and  "  switchy,"  entirely 
bare  beneath,  white  above,  and  having  a  black,  pointed  brush  at  the 
tip  of  hairs  two  to  three  inches  in  length.  The  short,  glossy  coat 
of  the  legs  is  of  the  same  tawny  color  that  gradually,  during  the 
summer,  covers  the  entire  animal,  till  the  new  "blue"  coat  shows 
itself  in  September.  Otherwise  this  description  applies  in  November, 
when  the  deer,  in  local  phrase,  begin  to  "run," — /.  c,  to  rut.  Of 
course,  both  sexes  are  then  at  their  best.  The  females  bring  forth 
their  young  some  time  in  June ;  during  which  month  the  males,  hav- 
ing shed  their  horns,  seclude  themselves  as  if  ashamed,  "  tarrying  at 
Jericho,"  in  fact,  till  the  excrescence  that  distinguishes  them  be  again 
grown. 

While  in  the  velvet,  the  horns  are  very  tender.  They  are  warm. 
Wound  them  and  they  bleed.  Their  gelatinous  substance  in  July  is 
a  dainty  tidbit  to  the  fortunate  coyotes.  If  you  would  save  them,  you 
must  hang  them  out  of  reach  of  your  dogs.  Gradually,  lime  is  de- 
posited, the  tips  harden,  the  blood  ceases  to  circulate,  the  velvety 
covering  splits  open  and  peels  off,  the  animal  hastening  the  process 
and  the  sharpening  and  brightening  of  the  points  by  industriously 
rubbing  them  upon  the  bushes  and  trees,  until,  in  the  bright  late 
October  days,  armed  and  exulting  in  his  strength  and  sleekness,  he 
is  all  ready  to  go  a-courting  ;  and  the  does,  as  if  aware,  and  owning 
too  the  soft  influence  of  the  season,  forsake  their  fawns  and  hide 
away  in  brake  and  dell.  Then  may  be  heard  from  hill  to  hill  the 
challenge  and  the  acceptance,  and  fierce  battle  be  witnessed,  in 
which  the  eager  contestants  heed  n"  whomsoever  may  approach, 
till  the  victors  retire  to  cool  shadows  .tnd  the  rewards  of  valor,  the 
vanquished  to  fight  another  day ;  or,  if  hopeless  and  superannuated, 
to  begin  a  life  of  sulky  solitude. 


f   \ 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Co/onuto. 


261 


The  novice  who  is  ambitious  to  slay  one  of  these  noble  and 
sagacious  animals  needs — of  the  very  best — guide,  gun,  camp 
outfit,  route,  range,  and  luck.  If  the  weather  had  not  its  admirable 
reputation  for  unfailing  reliability  in  Colorado,  during  the  shooting 
season,  from  mid-August  till  January,  he  would  need  also  to  pray 
for  that. 

If  you  have  plenty  of  time  and  little  money,  buy  a  good  pony  and 
saddle,  gun  and  ammunition,  blankets,  including  a  light  rubber  cloth 
or  overcoat,  a  side  of  bacon,  and  a  frying-pan, — though  you  will, 
when  in  permanent  camp,  probably,  prefer  to  broil  venison  and  fish 
on  the  coals, — a  little  salt,  a  sack  of  hard-tack,  another  of  dried  fruit, 
a  few  yards  of  good  line,  and  two  dozen  graj-  hackles  with  brown 
bodies,  a  change  of  underclothing,  a  picket-rope,  and  a  light  hatchet, 
a  skinning-knife,  with  belt  and  sheath,  and  a  stout  seamless  sack  big 
enough  to  carry  your  perishables  ;  tie  the  lot  together  and  set  out  on 
foot.*  You  can  take  a  little  rest  now  and  then,  when  the  road  is 
good,  on  the  top  of  all  this,  if  balanced  nicely  on  each  side  of  the 
saddle,  or  you  may  mount  to  ford  a  river.  Of  course,  it  is  su]iposed 
that  you  outfit  at  some  valley  town,  probably  Denver.  At  first,  of 
a  certainty,  your  progress  will  be  slow.  Take  your  time.  I  have 
enumerated  the  smallest  jjossible  list  of  impedimenta  for  a  tj-ro.  If 
you  stay  with  us  for  good,  you  may  some  time  in  the  future  be  able 
to  set  out  on  a  trip  through  a  few  hundred  miles  of  primitive  wilder- 
ness in  a  buckskin  suit  of  your  own  stitching,  and  carrying,  for  equip- 
ment and  subsistence,  your  gun.  three  cartridges,  a  pinch  of  salt  and 
a  jackknife,  like  Len  Pollard;  or  to  detest  salt,  like  Old  Hill;  or  to 
make  a  good  blanket  of  snow,  like  Doc.  Porter.  Hut,  for  a  first 
e.xperience,  you  will  find  these  things  very  handy,  and  your  pam- 
pered stomach  will  probably  welcome  the  additions  to  your  bill  of  fare 
procurable  at  ranches  by  the  way.  H\'  the  time  you  havt;  reached 
Big  Thompson,  the  Ounnison  or  the;  Orand,  or  the  Upper  Arkansas, 
or  any  of  the  smaller  tributaries  of  the  Platte,  your  education  will  be 
well  imder  waj-. 


1^' 


n 


,',  .<  \  \ 


*  The  pony  will  cost  twenty  to  eighty  dolLirs  ;  saddle,  bridle,  etc.,  ten  to  twenty- 
five ;  a  Sharp's  "liusiness"  ritle.  sinf^le  trigger,  with  necessary  implements,  thirty  to 
fifty  ;  blankets,  ten  to  fifteen  ;  and  other  necessaries  at  about  home  jirices,  with  the 
advantage  of  selection  from  aiiproved  stock  ajipropriate  to  the  precise  needs  of  the 
purchaser,  and  guaranteed  to  suit. 
I7.\ 


!    \  If    ^ 


,!;|i 


■h  II 


262 


Hiiiitiii^  the  Mule -Peer  in  Cohnulo. 


UN   Tin:   r.KANn. 


Although  you  will  manaoi;  so  as  to  he  always  within  reach  of  sup- 
plies antl  a  post-office,  the  farther  you  j^e't  from  traveled  roads  antl 
recently  hunted  ground  the  better,  (io  till  you  are  sure  there  is 
game  about  you  ;  then  settle  down  and  take  things  coolly.  If  you 
find  a  camp  of  genuine  and  experienced  hunters  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, they  may,  at  first,  look  coldly  upon  \()u,  as  one  likely  to  drive 
the  game  off  the  accessii)le  ranges  without  getting  any  ;  at  any  rate, 
driving  it  away  from  them.  If  you  are  wise,  you  will  acknowledge 
yourself  a  novice,  and  remembering  that  their  sole  living  may  be  in 
this,  as  yours  in  quite  another  and  probably  more  lucrative;  kind  of 
hunt  back  across  the   Mississippi    somewhere,  perhaps  you   will  do 


Hitntiug  the  Mitlc-Decy  in  Colorado. 


263 


well  to  offer  a  fair  equivalent — say  five  dollars — to  the  man  who  will 
take  you  with  him  and  let  you  shoot  a  buck  of  his  finding,  (io  with 
him,  do  just  as  he  tells  you,  and  )  ou  will  get  your  first  deer  cheap  ; 
then,  if  you  are  keen  and  observant,  probably,  you  will  have  learned 
more  than  a  whole  season  of  painful  work  by  yourself  would  have 
amounted  to,  and  your  second  deer  will  be  yours  without  tribute. 

My  own  first  experience  in  still  hunting  in  Colorado  ma)-  be 
taken  as  an  instance  of  self-confident  failure.  I  woukl  not  take  a 
guide.  No,  indeed  !  Had  1  not  been  a  mighty  hunter  from  my 
boyhood  up ! 

So  I  waited  for  the  first  snow.  1  had  passed  the  summer  in  the 
foot-hills  with  a  sketching  kit  on  my  back  and  a  rifle  in  my  hands, 
and  had  been  about  equally  occupied  with  the  grand  scenery  and 
with  the  dusky  grouse  and  rabbits.  Once  I  had  .surprised  a  band  of 
mountain  sheep  at  a  lick,  by  pure  accident,  and  caused  a  fine  old 
buck  to  ascend  some  hundreils  of  feet  of  steep  rocks  with  great 
ability,  the  ball  from  my  36-caliber  "  rim-fire  "  onl\  ilrawing  a  few 
drops  of  blood.  .Anathematizing  that  gim  as  onl\  a  tyro  can,  !  took 
the  first  opportunity  to  e.xchaiige  for  a  50- caliber  military  rifle,  with 
which  I  expected  to  fill  the  next  opening  to  better  purpose. 

Hy  and  by  the  deer  began  to  come  down  from  the  high  feeding- 
grounds,  and  over  the  passes  from  the  parks,  and  gratlually  to  work 
south,  "  bandeil,"  and  led  b\  the  old  bucks,  and  making  their  wa\- 
to  the  warm  antl  sheltered  wintering-places  south  of  Pike's  Peak. 
This  migrator)-  habit  is  observed  wherever  the  high  and  rough  natuti; 
of  the  countr)'  affords  a  secure  summer  retreat,  but  is  too  barren  and 
storm-exposed  for  a  winter  habitat.  Sometimes  the  hunters  would 
break  uji  and  scatter  one  of  these  bands,  and  in  twos  and  threes  they 
would  remain  and  infest  the  rough  countr\  for  a  time,  until  joined  to 
a  new  leadership,  and  thus,  timid  and  on  the  alert,  tliey  were  much 
oftener  seen  than  secureil  ;  Uie  region  back  of  Houlder  l)eiiig  pecul- 
iarly hard  hunting-grouml,  liill)-  and  broken,  anil  giving  the  keen- 
eyed  and  keen-nosed  animals  a  great  advantage.  One  November 
niorniny,  at  three  o'clock,  bound  to  be  carh-,  and,  if  hard  and  con- 
.scientious  work  might  avail,  to  carr\  a  Iroph)  into  camp  that  day,  I 
was  truilging  cheerfully  up  Boulder  Canon  llin)ugli  the  new-fallen 
snow.  Before  the  dawn  began  to  follow  up  the  morning  star,  I  had 
climbed  a  slide  in  a  crevice,  .some  hundreds  of  feet,  and  shivered  for 


!l  ' 


El  f  1 


::!L;i 


' .  :!; 


'W 


ifyi 


'  .  i 


'  p  ill 


\f-     1*1  II'" 

■■ii'iiidii*. 


S?'l 


WW  •' 


n^ 


^-1 


H 


^11 


■ 


I  1! 


:'   II 


264 


Hunting  the  Mule- Deer  in  Colonuio. 


an  hour  under  the  pines,  waitinjj;  fur  liijfht  enouj^h  to  see  to  shoot. 
My  method  of  approach  to  the  foot  of  the  lony[,  shallow,  wooded 
iTulch  in  which  I  now  stood  had  been  well  chosen.  1  had  a\oidetl  a 
tedious  circuit  among  logs,  and  sticks  that  would  snap,  and  stones  that 
would  roll,  and  a  peculiarly  e.xasperating  large-leaved  plant,  that  in  its 
dry  condition  rattles  when  touched  like  castanets.  I  knew  that  the 
deer  "used  "  in  this  vicinity,  for  I  had  frequently  seen  sign  here  ;  I  had 
calculated  the  direction  of  the  wind,  the  lay  of  the  land,  my  course 
from  the  light  of  the  rising  sun,  so  that  1  might  see  better  than  be 
seen,  hear  better  than  be  heard,  and,  if  my  nose  could  not  help  me, 
at  least  to  avoid  offense  to  any  keener  sense  of  smell  than  my  own. 
I  thought  myself  very  sagacious.  Well,  in  due  time  I  decided  that 
there  was  light  enough  for  my  purpose.  Cautiously  up  the  left  side 
of  the  gulch  I  worked  from  tree  to  tree,  peering  among  the  shadows, 
scanning  the  earth  as  closely  as  possible  to  see  whether  anything 
had  brushed  the  fc:athery  flakes  that  bart;ly  covered  it.  I  took  a  long- 
time, and  it  grew  light  too  fast,  I  thought.  Hy  and  by,  high  up  at 
the  head  of  a  grassy  swale  that  wound  down  the  center,  I  saw  three 
imprints  of  round,  plump  bodies.  The  snow  was  deeper  here ;  there 
were  trees  close  behind,  up  the  gulch,  but  evidently  there  had  been 
no  desire  for  shelter.  They  had  all  lain  so  as  to  see  down  the  slo])e, 
their  slender  legs  curled  under  for  warmth,  which  had  melted  the  bed 
a  little  and  pressed  it  closely  and  firm.  I  put  my  hand  on  the  half 
transparent  matrix :  it  wa.>  not  frozen  yet ;  the  little  white  pellets  of 
snow-dust  that  came  with  the  wind,  slanting  and  rolling  along  the 
ground,  had  hardly  begun  to  accumulate  in  the  depressions  made  by 
the  knees  and  feet.  Evidently,  my  quarry  had  lain  here  in  full  view 
of  my  slow  approach;  what  moment  had  they  cunningly  chosen  to 
rise  and  slip  away  like  shadows?  They  must  still  l)e  near.  See,  the 
tracks  are  close  together  and  rambling.  No  sudden  fear,  or  they 
would  be  in  pairs  and  far  apart.  Strange,  they  go  down  the  gulch, 
on  the  side  opposite.  Cautiously  again  I  begin  to  follow  the  little 
tell-tale  tokens.  Very  cautious  before,  I  am  preternaturally  so  now. 
Not  a  footfall  of  my  own,  not  a  breath  do  I  permit  myself  to  startle 
my  own  ears  with.  I  am  an  hour,  perhaps,  following  these  tiny,  mean- 
dering foot-prints  down  to  a  point  where  they  turn  sharply  and  lead 
straight  up  the  side  of  the  gulch  to  the  ridge  at  its  edge.  A  new 
light — the  sun  is  up  now.  but  it  isn't  that — breaks  upon  me.      It  is 


i"  ■ 


I 


Hunting  the  Mnlc-Dco'  in  Colomdo. 


265 


ARK    YDl'    lOiiKINC.    roK     IS.' 


hard  to  believe,  hut  evidently  those  deer  saw  me  as  I  betjan  to 
look  for  them,  and  came  down  throiii^h  the  trees  here  to  inspect  me, 
— to  see  what  I  was  about,  in  fact, — and  they  stood  ris^dit  hen  and 
watched  nu;  as  I  [jassed  ])y  on  the  other  side,  not  a  hundred  yards 
away.  And  then  they  follow  ;  yes,  here  run  the  tracks,  right  along 
the  ridge.  The  rascals  have  even  stopped  when  I  did,  measuring 
their  progress  with  mine.  And  now  I  see  that  the  trail  has  doubk^d, 
half  the  imprints  pointing  this  way,  and  I  begin  to  suspect  still  more 
of  their  tantalizing  cunning.  Yes,  it  is  even  so.  Here  they  stood 
and  saw  my  careful  inspection  of  their  sleeping  apartment,  still 
within  easy  shooting  distance,  but  partly  screened  by  netted  boughs 
and  twigs,  and  here  they  lurnetl  again  and  accompanied  me  down 
again,  retracing  their  stc;ps ;  and  just  at  the  point  where  I  began  to 
climb  out,  they  evidently  susjjected  that  I  was  really  in  earnest,  and 
that  they  had  better  go.  The  direction  of  their  departure  was  indi- 
cated by  three  separate  lines  of  double  exclamation  points  in  the 
snow,  beginning  about  eighteen  feet  from  where  the  light  broke 
upon  me  as  described,  and  leading  due  west. 


:.r 


MU 


m. 


'!      V 


266 


Itiintiiifr  the  Miilc-Dcci'  in  Colonulo. 


I      I 


"   B 


\.  jl 


I!" 


i   f! 


I 


I  shoultlercil  my  gun  and 
satlly  pri'parcxl  to  cross  to  the 
n{;,\t  umlisturbeil  rangt.-. 

That  iiiuht,  as  I  sat  silently 
l)y  the  tire  rcvicwinir  the  ilay's 
t.'xpericncL'  anil  tlisappointnicnts, 

—  for    I    iiatl   tramped    persever- 
injfly  and  seen  nothing;  to  shoot, 

—  I    hati    to    take    some    ^ood- 
natured  rallying'   from   the   older 
Nimrods  of  the  camp,  who  sus- 
pected that    I   hat!  that 
day   met  some  sadden- 
injjf  disappointment. 

"  The  hoy  aint  ni^h 
so  chirk  an' 
chipper  to- 
night ez  he 


is    usually,  " 
Old  Levi. 


remarketl 
'  He's  bin 
to  school   to-day.      I  "xpect  some     IK^^ 
ole  buck  up  in  the  hills  ez  been     ^^^ 
playin'  it  fine  on  him." 

My  ne.\l  failure  was  hut  a 
day  or  two  later.  A^ii-ain  I  had 
risen  with  the  star,  ha\in<;-  passed 
a  bitter  cold  night  in  a  deserted 


AN    ATIACK    III     ■' bUCK   I  EVKK.' 


Hunting  the  Miilc-DciT  in  Cotonuto 


267 


cal)in.  Iliis  tinu-  I  was  siicccssfiil  thus  far:  I  louiul  sinii  and  worked 
the  yrouml  carctiilly  and  correctly,  my  ambition  spurred  hy  what  Old 
\x\\  had  tokl  mv.  about  a  fabuh)usly  Vav^v.  buck  that  lor  four  winters 
hatl  used  liiis  i^round,  and,  thoui^h  rre([uently  seen  and  shot  at,  had 
thus  far  escapi-d  unscatlu'd.  I  kncnv  that  Levi  anil  Hank  were  at 
that  moment  less  tiian  a  mile  away,  workinj^-  toward  the  spot,  and  I 
dreamed  a  little  of  the  dilij^ht  of  having  them  finil  mk;  there  when 
they  arrivetl,  with  the  covetetl  prize  at  my  fett;  but  when  my 
buck  fmally  broke  cover  from  amonu;  the  rocks, — at  niy  very  feet, 
indeed, — he  was  such  a  beautiful  sijrlit,  his  polished  antlers  l\in.!^ 
back  almost  upon  his  round,  massive  shoulders,  his  prot^ress — llioht, 
it  truly  seemed — throuj^di  that  too  brief  \ista  of  ;^ianl  rocks,  tliroujLjh 
which  my  way  had  cost  such  labor,  was  somelhin;:;'  so  womkrful  to 
see  that  I  actual!)'  forjjfot  I  carrit'd  a  j,am  till  the  brute  with  the 
charmeil  life  was  a  mile  away.  Was  it  "buck  fe\er"?  Well,  that 
was  the  wa)-  it  took  me;  but  I  never  had  it  afterward,  'ihe  (>thers 
soon  came  up.  I'hey  had  seen  nothing,  .\_oain  that  liay  1  was  so 
fortunati'  as  to  tiud,  so  unfortunate  as  to  fail.  Wi:  had  separated, 
they  }^oini,r  toward  (lold  Hill,  1  workin;^'  in  the  direction  of  Sui^ar 
Loaf  Mountain.  At  the  edj^e  of  a  ravine,  1  saw  a  movenunt  in  the 
thick  jj^rowth  below,  faintly  a<fainst  the  snowy  bottom.  1  was  induliL;- 
\n^  in  a  smoke.  In  my  haste  to  remove  my  pipe,  I  dropped  it.  Out 
then  came  a  lariL^e  doe,  and,  still  uncertain  as  to  the  exact  point  of 
dauijer,  in  short,  hitrh  jumps  went  half  way  up  the  rise  to  my  left. 
A  prettier  shot  never  offered  than  when  she  stopped,  not  a  hundred 
yards  away,  to  look  at  me  for  a  moment.  I  had  a  blanket  rolled 
and  slunif  across  my  shoulder,  and  in  my  haste  and  flurry  I  forgot 
it ;  it  got  in  the  way  as  I  brouj^ht  my  rifle  up  ;  I  stopped  to  drop 
it,  and  when  I  fired,  it  was  at  a  movino-  object  instead  of  at  a  sta- 
tionary one.  I  saw  the  dirt  antl  snow  fly  a  little  too  hij,di  and  just 
ahead  of  her. 

That  niyht  after  sunset  I  was  buildinj^'  a  fire  ay^ainst  a  hu_<re  rock, 
in  the  snuggest  nook  1  could  find  on  the  east  foot  of  Sugar  Loaf, 
when  a  tall,  good-looking  man  in  an  arm\-  coat,  with  a  huge:  muzzle- 
loader  under  one  arm  and  a  little  yellow  dog  on  the  other,  approached 
niy  bivouac. 

"Hullo!  Good-evening!  What  are  you  doing  here  such  a 
night  as  this.-' " 


:i:i^l 


1  'I 


b^ 


r- 


I  rf  I 


'   fl 


268 


Hunting  the  Miilc-Pcir  in  Cokmuio. 


'\\\v  snow  was  tlriftinj^,  and  it  did  promise  to  he  an  iijjly  sort  of" 
nii,dit.  llowfviT,  I  procccilcd  to  explain,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that 
I  was  heating-  this  rock  to  make  my  Wx\  aj^'ainst;  that  when  it  and 


^w 


OMIOKNK    AND    Ills    DOG. 


the  ijroimd  were  siifficii;ntl)-  warmed,  I  proposed  to  move  the  fire  out 
a  couple  of  yards,  replenish  it,  and  then  anil  there  to  roll  up  in  my 
blankets  and  sleep  tlu;  sleep  of  the  just. 

"  Didn't  you  see  a  cabin  as  vou  came  down  the  yulch  up  there?" 
inquired  the  tall  man,  with  a  pu/zled  or  (piizzical  smile — I  suspected 
a  little  of  both. 

"  \'es,"  I  replied. 

"  Well,  what  kind  of  people  do  you  take  us  for,  anyhow,  to  think 
we'tl  let  anybody  lie  out  such  a  niijht  as  this  is  ,tjoin'  to  be  ?     Just 


1 1  nil  till ^  the  Mulc-Dccf  in  Colonuio. 


269 


pick  lip  those  traps  of  yoiirn  ami  come  alonj^  with  iiu-,  an'  ilon't  you 
ever  ilo  that  aj^ain  in  this  vie-cinity.  N'ou'il  'a'  l)een  in  a  nice  fix 
here  befort;  inorninjjf.  " 

I  was  on  my  mettle  in  tliosi:  clays,  and  inclined  to  he  proud  of  my 
powers  of  endurance.  I  hail  (piite  enjoyed  the  prospi:ct  of  (iracticin^ 
this  kind  of  hed-warmin^,  which  1  had  heard  the  old  ftllows  tell  us 
of  as  somethinjr  to  make  the  pilj^rim  wonder,  and  I  harilly  relished 
the  half-a|)parent  amusement  of  this  hij^  mountaininr,  who  wasn't  in 
the  least  impressed  by  my  show  of  ri:sijrnation  and  resources.  One 
look  at  the  black  sky,  that  seemed  to  be  rapidly  settling  earthward, 
decided  me,  howc  ver,  and  with  a  j^rateful  acknowledirment  and  a 
half  senst;  of  rt'lief,  I  followed  my  entertainer  to  his  mountain  home. 
Ah,  those  stc;aks,  cut  from  the  rump  of  that  three-hundred-pound 
buck  hanjfinj^  in  the  back  room  !    There  were  three  inches  of  fat  on 


I 


w 


the  edges  of  them,  and  my  handsome  hostess  blushed  before  the  fire, 
as  she  turned  them  to  a  beautiful  brown,  while  the  little  dog  looked 
on  with  an  air  of  quiet  approval  and  anticipation. 

"  That's  my  huntin'  dog,"  said  Hig  Osborne,  laughing  at  my  stare 
of  surprise,  not  to  say  incredulity.     "  Yes,  sir  ;  and  that's  the  kind  of 


ill 


:  m 


'Mi   Ihn 


li  .fir 


t;: 

1 

■ 

I' 

n 

J 

';  i 

'  ■  : 

i 

0 

'        1 

i 

1; 

( 

1 

t 

i 

270 


Ilinitiiig  the  Mule -Deer  in  Colonuio. 


"AND    TINV     SAID     riK.      ITIOICIIT     UK    Cdlll.I). 


doij  for  these  hills.  1  )on't  scare  the  deer  a\va\',  and  always  fetches 
'em.  1  can  take  twenty-five  dollars  for  tnat  dot;  any  day;  but 
money  can't  buy  him.  You  sc;<',  he  knows  as  well  as  I  do  just  what 
to  do.  When  I  '^vX  to  see  a  band,  1  just  put  him  dowii,  and  Ik-  j4()es 
rit,dit  for  'em  and  bc^sj^ins  to  bark.  Well,  vou  see,  the  l)i_!j^  ones  wont 
run  for  him,  ami  after  stamping  awhile  they  take  .ifter  him.  I  le 
runs  a  little  ways,  and  then  the\-  stoj),  and  he  bejrins  to  bark  attain  ;  and 
so  he  kee[)s  leadin<(  'c:m  rioht  towind  me,  or  1  keep  working;-  uj)  to 
'em  ;  an('  they're  so  worried  and  mad  aatl  interested,  that  sonn:times 
I  yet  in  two  or  three  shots  before  thi;v  ft-'t  wind  of  me  at  all.  Ihat's 
the  wa\  i  yot  that  big^  buck,  antl  I  reckon  he'd  a'  been  too  cunniny;^ 
for  me  ;  but  Tiny  fetched  him,  and  he  can  do  it  evt;ry  time.    Can't  y 


ou, 


I  mv 


And   Tiny  .said  he-  thousj^ht  he  could. 

Ne.\t  morninjL;",  I  resumed  my  hunt;   but,  althouLjh  I  saw  frefjuent 
indications  of  their  recent  movements — probably  durinj.,^  the;  nij^ht  — 

returned  empty- 


\\\ 


ir^i^e  nouies,  1   saw  no  more  dei-r,  and  ajj; 


1  ayfiiin   I 


handed,   this   time  consoled  b)-  the  fact  that  the  others  had  no  better 
luck  ;    in  faot,  tl;e\-  had  not  sc^i'U  a  deer  at  all. 

Hut  throu_o"h  failures  like  these  is  the  way  to  ultimate  success.      I 
saw  my  blunders,  and  thout^ht  I  miy^Iit  profit  by  tlnMn.      i  saw  that  1 


;\v„ 


Ilniitiiii^  the  Mtdc-Dcci'  in  Colonuto. 


271 


had  yet  to  le;irii  how  to  look.  There  is  scjiiictliiiiL;  in  kno\vin_<4  a 
deer  when  you  see  him.  A  friend  trieil  lon^r  and  faithhilU  to  show  a 
deer,  standing'  in  hill  view,  to  an  eai^a^r  hut  untrained  sportsman,  and 
then  had  to  shoot  it  liefore  \\v.  could  se(,'  it.  lie-  saw  it  wln'ii  it  fell 
ck)wn.  kicking,''.  \'ou  look  amonj^'  l)owld(;rs  and  lotrs,  and  all  are 
|HM"ha|is  alike  to  \()u  ;  hut  b)-  and  hy  a  bowlder  surprises  you  by 
jumpiuL;,  without  warniny^,  t\vent\  teet  into  the  air,  over  another  ver)- 
lartre  one,  jjerhaps,  and  almost  alwa\s  up-hill;  and,  while  your  heart 
bumps  your  nioutli  ojx'n,  the  bowkk.-r  tlisapp(;ars,  and  you  say,  "(Mi! 
wh\   didn't  1  shoot  him.-'"     .Sure  enouLjh,  wh)' .■' 

It  is  a  most  surjirisin!^  thint,''  to  sc;(;  a  deer  \^v\.  up  on  its  le,i;s, — at 
h.ome,  I  mean,  and  when  he  would  pn^fer  to  Ik;  aIon<;.  Watch  a  cow 
at  the  same  o|i<ration.  Laborious  elevation  ol  one  end,  then  ol  the 
other;  then  a  i^nat  yawn,  and  a  crackini;'  ot  joints,  and  a  !a/)-  twist 
of  the  tail  ;md  a  iniL^hly  snort  of  bovine  satislaclion,  and  she  is  ready 
to  _!4i<  to  pail  or  pasture.  Ihit  she  don't  bud^i-,  mind,  without  the 
regular  lormuki.  llow  does  a  buck  start  tor  pasture  when  \ou  dri\e 
him  up  in  the  morning;'.''  \\h\,  he  lies  with  his  four  ieet  under  him, 
and  when  he  is  read)-  to  l;o  it  is  like  [ack  ii^n.'ttinj^r  out  ot  the  bo.x. 
The  tremendous  extensor  muscles  contract  with  all  the  power  and 
facility  rest  and  warmth  hav<:  Lii\<:n  th('ni,  and  the  plump  body,  like 
a  w(;ll  inlkit(Hl  rubber  ball  propelled  by  a  vi^iirous  kick,  thes  litihtly 
into  the  air.  Tlie  simile  is  boriie  out  as  it  seems  about  to 
ilescend :  li.^ht  as  thistle- down  it  nears  the  c;arth  ;  another  i^iant 
im|)ulse  troin  an  unseen  power  —  rras//  —  ami  ai^ain  it  describes  its 
liL,dit  paraboki  •  crack  —  him//)  —  /,'iit(t — //iin/ — //hk/  —  each  time 
fainlcM"  than  the  last,  and  your  surprise:  is  all  that  remains. 

The  time,  patienc<',  etTort,  and  stud\'  I  spent  diirinjj;'  that  winter 
and  the  summer  and  winti-r  followini;'  in  learning;'  how  to  outwit  that 
subtlest  of  all  harmless  creatures  uoiild  have  mastered  a  much  more 
e.^act  science.  I  realized  a  dei^ree  of  success,  howe\-er  ;  and  when  I 
stood  over  my  tlrst  buck,  not  chance  slain,  but  really  outdone  in 
craft,  shot  throu^jh  the  heart  as  he  spran_L,r  to  his  feet  and  turned  to 
see  nu;  not  twenty  ste|)s  awa\ ,  —  seeini^r  me  and  sus|)ectin,L.'  (.lan}.;t'r 
onl\  at  tlu'  instant  of  iiis  death,  while  I  had  followed  him  for  hours, 
unsuspected,  patiently.  perseverinj;l\ , —  I  telt  that  the  achievenumt 
was  worth  all  it  had  cost.  Meantime,  I  had  risen  with  the  morning 
star  tor  day  ■>  totrether,  crept  throu}.;'h  iniU:s  upon  miles  of  all  '-oris  of 


h 


.m 


li  %' 


'h 


I  {\, 


'  -f 


272 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Colorado. 


growth  and  over  all  sorts  of  ground;  had  seen  scores  of  deer, 
wounded  a  few,  to  my  great  regret,  but,  as  a  rule,  had  been  sparing 
of  ammunition,  unwilling  to  miss  or  only  to  maim.  And  so  1 
came  to  know  them  well,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  that  I  was  never 
tempted  to  harm  an  inexperienced  and  careless  fawn,  or  the  doe 
cumbered  with  maternal  cares,  although  opportunities  were  frequent 
for  making  sure  work  with  these. 

I  think  the  man  that  can  kill  a  "  papoose  " — unless  impelled  by 
the  hunger  that  knows  no  law  —  is  no  better  than  an  Indian.  He  is 
a  grade  worse.  Here,  in  Colorado,  the  game-law  lets  a  man  kill  a 
deer  out  of  season  if  he  is  hungry  or  if  his  family  needs  the  meat. 
It  ought  to  imprison  the  man  who  will  kill  a  fawn  ff)r  any  other 
reason,  or  even  then,  if  he  can  get  jack-rabbits  instead.  I  once 
heard  Len  l^ollard  tell  about  killing  a  doe  in  the  bad  lands  when 
he  was  almost  starving,  on  one  of  his  wild  journeys.  It  was  July. 
She  was  very  poor,  but  I-en  was  hungry.  As  he  stooped  to  bleed 
her,  something  touched  the  hand  that  was  drawing  his  knife.  It  was 
a  little  fawn,  and  right  behind  it  in  the  bushes  was  its  twin.  Both 
came  and  smelt  the  bod)-,  and  then  licked  the  hunter's  hands.  Len 
is  made  of  good  stuff,  and  he  couldn't  stand  that.  He  mounted  his 
horse,  but  the  little  things  followed,  and  finally  he  turned  and  merci- 
fully killed  both  of  them  rather  than  leave  them  l')  starve.  Hut  he 
recalls  it  rather  in  the  light  of  a  tragedy. 

Leaving  camp  early,  but  not  until  after  a  good  breakfast,  with  a 
brace  of  invalids  whose  Colorado  appetites  are  beginning  to  clamor 
for  relief  from  the  monotony  of  fresh  lr(/Ut,  caught  from  the  stream 
beside  which  is  our  rest,  and  which  the  Indians  call  Yampah, — with 
light  enough  to  show  a  moving  object  a  mile  away,  or  a  fresh  track 
from  the  saddle,  I  will  suppose  my.self  one  September  morning,  five 
years  after  the  day  of  disappointment  just  described,  riding  at  a 
leisurely  pace  up  a  long  hollow  in  a  hill-side  with  an  east  and  south 
e.\|)osure.  I  have  never  huntc-d  here  until  now,  but  I  see  groves  of 
(Making  asp  succeed  each  other  for  milt-s  away  to  the  right;  and, 
through  occasi(>nal  vistas  to  the  left,  the  black  pine-tops  show,  rising 
from  the  river  by  west  and  north  slopes  to  meet  mv.  on  the  rounded 
crest  bared  l)y  last  year's  fires.  TlK^rc;  th(!  ground  will  surely  show 
if  any  of  the;  kind  I  seek  have  lately  passed,  at  '  those  groves  are 
the  haunts  they  love.    .Skirting  their  upper  edj^'s,  vith  now  and  then 


Hunting  the  Mulc-Decy  in  Colonuio. 


273 


1.1 


A    I'ATTI.KN     IN    A     Nl:T    <il      IIMLM. 


an  incursion,  I  ride  for  miles.  Not  a  sij^n.  I  ride  now  witii  haste,  for 
'Ml  'inlil  I  sec  sijrn  will  I  bej^in  to  hunt.  Suddcmly,  a  fresh  track  — 
two  <  them — leisundy  windint;-  downward.  In  a  moment,  alert,  i 
am  on  the  <rround,  takinj^j  the  rein  ovc;r  my  pony's  head  as,  rifle  in 
hand,  1  dismount,  so  thai  if  I  let  him  ^o  he  will  put  his  foot  in  it 
p.-'sently  and  liold  himself  there.  (A  lariat  loo[)ed  at  the  saddle- 
fork,  or  held  coiled  in  tiic  left  hand  r(;ady  to  drop,  Indian  fashion,  is 
also  j^o(jd.)  I  intend  to  leave  him  here  to  {v.<^<\  while  1  prowl  around 
to  watch  and  list(;n,  hut  presently  I  make  out  a  p(,culiar  jjattiTn  in 
the  n(,'t-work  of  low  branches  and  little  sprouts  of  trees,  It  is  very 
sij^rnificant  to  me  ;  I  know  there  can  be  no  mistake  about  it,  and  I 
immediately  send  a  ball  just  under  tiie  center  portion.  The  pattern 
disai)p(!ars  without  noise,  and  I  reload,  catch  my  pony,  that  has 
merely  stepped  aside  at  tin;  flash  antl  report  of  my  44-caliber  Cre(xl- 
moor,  and  lead  him  about  si.xty  yards  into  the  thicket,  and  there  lies 
a  fine  fat  do('. 

After  some  dexterous  use;  of  tht;  knife;,  a  noose  of  the  lariat  back 
of  her  shoulders,  a  turn  forward  about  the  "horn"  of  the  saddle,  a 
few  tujfs  and  hitch(;s,  and  the  linip  one  lumilred  and  fifty  pounds  is 
s(!cured  by  the  iiooks  in  the  cinch,  —  for  this  cas(!  made  and  provided; 
niy  pati(,'nt  ol<l  Cub,  meantime  pretcndintr  a  vicious  alt.ick  upon  my 
buckskin  bniethes,  but  slandinij  st.inciib  whiU;  1  lift  and  make  all 
fast  and  secure.  Then  m\_i(un  slun,<^  across  my  shoulder,  the  sunset 
in  our  faces.  Cub  and  I  joi.^  lazih'  toward  camp.  I  Ik;  sai^e-hcii  ris',.'s 
noisily  and  unwillin;^ly,  with  much  cackle,  from  our  very  feet  ;  noise- 
18 


*      i! 


■M 


(i 


I  ;  '  •■  ! 


' .  ( 


i^^ 


274 


Hunting  the  Mule -Deer  in  Colorado. 


Bit 


m- 


less  prowlers,  lon^  and  lithe,  slip  from  shadow  to  shadow  ;  the  coyote 
yelps  coniplainini,dy  in  the  distance,  and  a  camp-fire  is  twinklinii^ 
away  ilown  hy  the  dim  river. 

.So  lon,!L^  as  he  knows  he  is  unobserved, — and  your  old  buck  is 
as  shrewd  as  a  man  in  judging  of  this, — he  stands  and  eyes  the 
hunter  with  the  coolest  curiosity.  The  moment  the  approach  is 
direct,  changing  from  obli(|ue.  or  the  hunter  conceals  himself  or 
halts  and  crouches,  that  moment  "  old  smarty "  runs  away.  The 
gun  should  b<;  at  the  shoulder  when  the  hunter  halts  to  shcjcjt, 
or  there  is  no  time.  Often  he  will  lie  and  lazily  watch  the 
approaching  en<;my,  as,  gun  in  hand,  he  labors  along  through  fallen 
wood  and  rocks,  and  aft(;r  perhaps  a  half  hour's  c;njoyment  of  the 
game  of  hide-and-seek,  the  search  getting  a  little  too  warm,  he 
will  at  ont:  jum|>  from  his  lair,  clear  a  huge  rock  or  log  and  dis- 
appear, his  feet  leaving  the  exact  imprints  in  which  they  have  rested 
perhaps  for  hours.  I'Vecpiently,  the  only  evidence  the  hunter  has 
of  his  vicinity  is  th(;  bn^ak-neck  clatter  and  crash,  sudden  as  an 
avalanche,  in  which  the  alarmed  animal  seeks  safety  and  at  the 
same  time  warns  all  oS.  his  fellows.  The  best  plan  then  is  for  the 
hunter  to  take  another  tack,  in  doing  which  he  may  possibly  find 
his  game  doubling  upon  him,  particularly  if  he  strike  for  higher 
ground. 

Don't  continually  try  your  gun  at  a  mark.  It  scares  the  hunters 
and  the  game.  "  What  a  nice  spot  to  shoot  at!"  or,  ".See  if  I  can't 
hit  that  tree  'way  over  there,"  says  Tenderfijot,  and  pn.sently  some 
startled  mountaineer  yells  out,  "Here!  who  the  future  condition  of 
misery  are  you  a-shootin'?"  which  is  an  awkward  (juery  when  pro- 
pounded by  an  ugly-looking  man  with  a  navy  armament  in  his  belt. 
You  might  hit  him  after  honestly  missing  a  deer  or  a  bear,  and  he 
wouldn't  l)lame  you  so  much  ;  but  he  d(>tests  this  aimless  fusiladc; 
which  only  drives  away  the  game.  He  sus]jects,  too,  that  this  waster 
of  ammunition  will  have  poor  success;  for  a  "dead  shot,"  even,  at  a 
target  may  be  a  muffin  tl'e  game  country. 

Try  to  be  cool  (.nough  to  mark  whether  your  ball  strikes  over  or 
under  when  you  miss  a  shot  with  a  hill-side  Itackground.  After 
awhile;  you  will  instinctively  measure  distances  and  elevate  accord- 
ingly. Whatever  theoretical  sportsuK-n  may  say,  you  can  just  as 
well  (;stimate  a  scaU;  to  elevate  to  as  the  distance  of  \()ur  object,  and 


Hunting  the  Mnlc-Dccr  in  Colorado. 


275 


can  jiulyc  of  the  perpendicular  from  l^ead  to  notch  just  as  well  with- 
out the  upri_t,Hit  bar,  or  "elevated  sijrht,"  to  waste  time  in  adjustin^^. 

This  is  the  practice  of  all  the  old  hunters  of  my  acquaintance: 
Draw  on  your  object  fine,  as  if  close  by;  then,  kecpinjr  the  bead  on 
him,  lower  the  breech  carefully  till  you  can  see  such  full  elevation  of 
sij^dit,  or  portion  of  barrel  below  it,  as  in  your  judifment,  j^niided  by 
experience,  is  e(|uivalent  to  the  distance,  and  cut  loose.  If  your  rifl(! 
is  of  small  caliber,  say  I'hV.  «ind  uses  the  hmjr  ball,  with  a  heavy 
charge  of  powder,  makinjr  a  low  trajectory,  y<ni  will  rarely,  in  these 
mountains,  need  to  draw  coarser  than  the  whole  height  of  the  "  front 
sij^ht,"  or  up  to,  say,  twice  its  heitjht  for  three  hundred  yards  or  a 
little  over.  Of  this  you  must  know  by  experiment,  howeviT,  the 
amount  and  stn.ngth  of  powder,  weij^dit  and  density  of  ball,  etc., 
varying  in  many  cases,  as  well  as  the  height  of  sights  and  distance 
between  th(.-m.* 

At  first,  you  had  better  take  only  such  chances  as  offer  within 
sure  range.  Take  the  body  rather  than  the  h(;ad,  and  well  forward, 
— just  at  th(;  ])oint  of  the  shoulder  is  best.      Pull  as  though  you  had 


(  >  81 


oi"p;n   SKiin. 


Ki.KVAi  iN<;   sri.iiT. 


got  all  day  to  tlo  it  in,  even  if  you  us(;  double  triggers,  which  are  an 
abomination. 

*  III  sliowinf^  the  luiiitcr's  inetluxl  of  "  cluvating,"  I  have  ;ilso  ilhistrat(.'(l  n  di'vice 
of  my  own,  whicli,  upon  careful  trial,  will  lie  found  to  serve  as  a  ready  and  faithful 
suhstituir  for  the  bar  and  sliile.  I. el  your  j^unsiiiitli  sink  a  line  from  behind  the  bead 
straight  toward  the  notch  of  the  "  biirk-horn  "  sif,'ht.  .At  intersals,  to  mark  the  de^^ree 
of  elevaiiou  for  150,  200,  300,  400,  or  500  yards,  these  intervals  determined  by  experi- 
nu'iH,  or  by  looking;  through  a  "peep"  sight  placed,  .is  usual,  back  of  the  breech.  (  ut 
(Toss-liiies  wide;  anil  deep  enough  to  be  distini  tly  sc-eii.  Of  course,  the  perpendicular 
liiK  from  the  liead  must,  in  sighting,  fill  the  iioti  h  center,  and  the  ( ross-liiie  for  the 
distance  rec|iiired  may  seem  to  rest  upon  the  toji  of  the  buck-liorn  The  noviiein 
"off-hand"  shooting  will  find  tl",is  a  great  help  to  his  progress. 


n     ,1 


■     -c   }\ 


M'M 


I     ! 


i( 


h 


M  r 


276 


///tnfinir  the  Mule -Deer  in  Co/onu/o. 


Morning  and  evening  arc  l)i.'st  to  hiinl  in.  In  thi;  bright  of  the 
moon,  deer  feed  at  niy;ht,  rcstinjf  while  llie  sun  is  hij^^h.  If  not  much 
hunted,  they  He  in  the  shatli;,  not  far  from  water;  if  often  ahirmed, 
they  "roost  hi,<,di  "  and  l<e(;p  a  good  lookout,  or  perhaps  leavt;  for  a 
(|uieter  range.  I'ires  and  smoke  they  det(;st,  and  they  soon  learn  to 
associate  the  report  of  fire-arms  with  the  pres(;nce  and  scent  of 
human  beings.  .Still,  b)-  judicious  m(;thod,  they  may  be  "  herded," 
till  you  have  all  the  meat  \()U  can  take  care  of 

If  a  mountain  man  tells  you  that  Ik;  don't  know  where  the  game 
is,  b(;lieve  him.  It  has  i)ecome  so  unselthrd  b\-  constant  and  careless 
hunting  (which  does  not  d(;serve  the;  name — "driving"  would  bett(;r 
express  it)  that  one  must  In;  in  constant  e.\perienc(;  to  know  its 
present  accessible  haunt.  It  may  be  |)lenliful  here  to  day  and  gone 
to-morrow.  The  incursions  of  co\()t<;s  anil  foxes  among  the  fawns, 
and  the  approach  ot  a  mountain  lion,  or  of  a  man  that  shoots  inc<'s- 
santly,  are  marching  orders  to  th(;m.  Also,  to  repeat,  lu'e  and  smoke 
they  particularly  abhor.  .\t  almost  any  season,  a  confl.'igration  may 
occur,  originating  in  the  criminal  carelessness  or  ignorance  of  some 
one  who  h.is  failed  to  put  out  his  camp-lu'c,  or  in  the  detestable  policy 
of  the  Indi.ins,  or  some  malcontents  among  them,  at  least,  who  set  these 
tires  to  destroy  die  timber  that  might  be  ol  use  to  th(t  whites  and  to 
drive;  away  the  game  into  their  own  country,  it  iteing  their  policy  to 
disturb  their  own   "cattle,"  as  the\-  term   them,  ;is   little  as   possible. 

Remember  that  to  se(;  your  game  before  it  sees  or  snu.'lls  you  is 
th(;  great(;sl  advantagi;.  It  sonn^times  hap|)ens  that  when  already  in 
otion,  not  ihoroughK'  startl(;d,  but  sus|)icious,  it  may  be  induct.-d  to 


m 


,tl 


sto[)  and   turn   by  a  shrill  whistle;  or  a  ston<;   thrown  111  advanci 


th 


If 


approaching  you  and   unaw 


arc;   of  \()ii,  the    first 


wil 


marly  always 


prove 


tht 


,ttl 


unu'  to  do. 


ll 


ie  instance  illustrated  in  the  picture 


entitl<;d  "The   I'all   of  the    Leader."  a  small   band   of  males  is  in  full 
fli''ht  from  the  course;  of  a  sudden  ste)rm.      The  le;ade'r.  some  yards  in 


aeivance' 


stops 


suelele-n 


>•■ 


itl 


with  e'ars  ;inel 


e've'S  alert   te)    t 


ind 


he   se)ure:e; 


and  cause;  of  an  unfamiliar  sound  more'  startling  than  the:  roar  of  the 
winds  behind,  and,  smitten  in  the:  same  instant,  clears  at  om;  lea]) 
the;   last   inte;rve'ning   le)gs  and   yields   liis  life   in   the:  dry  path  of  the 

ne)oel. 

ays   ])icke;t  e)r  he)bl)le'  \our  animals  at  night,  eir  at  le-ast  picke-t 


coininij 


Ah 


one;  e) 


f  tl 


le'lll- 


-tl 


le'  Icaele^r,  it    lhc\   Jicknowleelgi-  e)ni-.       Xe'glect 


tl 


us 


will  cost  time'  ;uid  nu)ne'\-  aiiel  ve'xation. 


J I  It  lit  ill }r  the  Mtilc-Dcci'  ill  Co/onuto. 


Till.    r.M.I.    (II     Till.    1,1,\T)I  R. 


277 


If  you  L^ct  lost,  stay  wIk-H'  you  arc  till  sonicliody  finds  you  or 
you  find  yourself;  /.  c,  discover  souk;  landmark  to  j^niidc  you  hack. 
If  \-ou  !ia\c  familiarized  yourself  with  the  counteuaiices  of  the  hiL,di 
peaks  and  fhcMr  hearings,  direction  ol  watercourses,  etc.,  and  have 
b(;en  careful  to  take  a  j^ood  look  hm/c  now  and  then,  \()u  can  hardly 
fail  to  n  trace  your  sl(;|)s. 

In    following  a  trail,  if  it  su<ld(,'nl\-   disapjiears,  carefully  note   the 

s|)ot  where  \our   uncertainty   l)eL,dns,  so  that   you    m.u,  at   least,  find 

that   aL;;>in.      I'sually    this    will    occur    where   |)ack    animal',   stray   or 

.strat(^'le  aside  to  kwA,  and  the  riders  lea\'e  the  trail  to  drive  tluMii  in, 

rS,\ 


"i^ 


i  •! ; 


'il'I. 


i* 


II. 


1 ,1 


t'^Hv. 


1 

If 

u 

- 

1  ■ 

\ 

■ 

.,i 

! 

•i 

.11  ■ 

1  V,! 


1 


m 


WH^fniii 


'      I't '"   -A 


hupw 


278 


Hitiitiiig  the  Miilc-Dccr  in  i'olorado. 


ii» 

i 

H 

1 

A     iJiSNOI.VlNc;     VII.W. 


or  on  difficult  crossin<rs  of  swampy  bottoms,  where  slow  progress 
makes  it  necessary  for  a  party  to  widen  out,  each  picking-  his  own 
way.  By  careful  scrutiny  of  the  far  side  of  the  open  space,  morass, 
or  intervening  growth,  you  may  usually  see,  or  at  least  see  indica- 
tions, of  the  trail  you  seek. 

To  save  meat  for  future  use,  cut  it  in  thin  strips,  witii  the  grain, 
and  string  them  on  a  lariat  in  the  sun.  After  a  few  hours  of  expos- 
ure, which  may  be  at  successive  camps  if  necessary,  it  will  be  thor- 
oughly "jerked."     Salt  is  not  indispensable. 

Always  have  matches  about  you,  in  some  water-proof  receptacle. 

Let  a  bear  cub  alone.  l'"ool  with  an  old  bear  if  )ou  must,  but 
be  sure  there  is  no  small  family  about. 

In  fording  a  river,  look  out  for  "  (piicks."  These,  1  believe,  are 
never  found  in  swift  water.  The  "riffles" — a  term  probably  peculiar 
to  the  West,  where  the  stream  widens,  or  below  a  bend,  particularly 
if  there  be  islands  or  l)ars  —  indicate  the  places  wh(,'re  you  may 
attempt  to  ford. 

Choose  rocky  or  clayey  grounil,  if  possible,  or  clear  sand,  to 
build  your  fire  1  nin :  if  on  a  muck  of  pine-needics,  it  will  bur- 
row, and  water  will  not  quench  it  all.  'I'hen,  in  a  day  or  two,  the 
whole  country  is  burning  over  and  the  game  driven  away,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  possible  peril  to  others,  and  the  destruction  of  the 
forests. 

This  is  not  the  whole  art  of  wooocraft,  but  it  will  tlo  to  begin 
with,  and   ma\'  suffice.      As  a  closing  word,  1  atlvise  you  to  be  tem- 


\ 


//inifiiiir  the  Mitlc-Dcci'  in  Coloyado. 


279 


Derate,  and.  while  doiiijj;  your  share,  not  to  attempt  too  much.  I'iiul 
a  L^ood  place  ami  l(o  into  camp,  instead  of"  tryinj^^  to  ilo  the  whole 
\Vt;st  in  a  season,  and  you  will  prohahl)-  count  amonjj;  your  pleas- 
antest  recollections  your  deer-hunts  and  huntin},r-camps  in  Colorado. 


^fc3 


'-in 


•  'i» 


\A\ 


x^ 


'  }■ 


W\ 


11     fi 


u 


rilli    WILD    SllliliP   ()!•    'II11<:    SIIiRRA. 


liv    |()H\     Ml'IR. 


Till'"-  wild  sheep  ranks  hit^liesl  ainoii^^  ihe  animal  inoimtaincers 
of  the  Sierra.  I'dssessed  of  l<(;en  sii^dil  and  scent,  ininiovahlc 
nerve,  anil  slrons^'  linil)s,  In;  dwells  secure  amid  the  loftiest 
simimits  of  the  Alps,  from  one  extremity  of  the  rant^e  to  the  other; 
leapint^  unscathed  from  craM^  to  cray;,  up  and  down  the  fronts  of 
H'iddy  precipices,  crossinsj^  foamini^  torrents  and  slopes  of  frozen 
snow,  (!xposi-d  to  the  wildi'st  storms,  yet  maintaining;'  a  brave,  warm 
life,  and  developin<;- from  j^eneration  to  ,!L,HMieration  in  perfect  streng^th 
and  beauty. 

Nearly  all  the  lofty  mountain  chains  of  the  globe  are  inhabited 
by  wild  sheep,  which,  by  the  best  naturalists,  are  classified  under 
five  distinct  species.  These  are  the  ar_t,Mli  ( ()z'/s  anuiioii,  Linn.), 
found  throughout  all  the  principal  ranges  of  Asia  ;  the  burrhal  ( Ovis 
bnrrltcl },  of  the  upi)er  Himalayas  ;  the  Corsican  moufflon  (  Ovis  ii/nsi- 
inoii,  Pal.);  the  .African  wild  sheep  (Ovis  tragclcphus,  Cuv. );  and 
the  .\merican  bij^r  horn,  or  Rocky  Mountain  sheep  (Ovis  Moiiiana, 
Cuv.).  To  this  last-named  species  belonirs  the  wild  sheep  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  Its  ran<re,  accordinj^  to  Professor  I^aird,  of  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  extends  "  from  the  rtit^ion  of  the  upper 
Missouri  and  Yellowstone  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the  high 
grounds  adjacent  to  them  on  the  eastern  slope,  and  as  far  south  as 
the  Rio  Grande.  Westward  it  extends  to  the  coast  ranges  of  Wash- 
ington Territory,  Oregon,  and  California,  and  follows  the  highlands 
.some  distance  into  Nh;xico."*  Throughout  the  vast  region  bounded 
on  the  east  and  west  by  the  Wasatch  Mountains  and  the  .Sierra 
Nevada,  there  are  more  than  a  hundre'd  independent  ranges  and 
*  I'acific  R;iilro:i(l  Survey,  vol.  viii..  ]);ii,a'  fiy.S. 


Ij.t 


I  ;  : 


ji     ;ifl 


W 


I    I 


in       :        II- 


IjiS 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


A 


/.         <^^ 

k  .^'^^^i- 


(A 


^ 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


m  {|{||2.8 

m 

|22 

;'       i^ 

|2-° 

•fc  u  ■. 

llm 

1.4    1 

il.6 

VI 


^ 


/a 


<p 


/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  873-4503 


6^^ 


f 


~n 


i?i 


•  •: 


ti 


: 


in 


i|!' 


The  lyUii  Slice/)  of  the  Sierra. 


283 


muuntain  {groups,  trenclinjr  north  and  south  in  close  succession,  ranj^e 
beyond  ran^e,  with  summits  risinjj;  from  eight  to  twelve  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  every  one  of  which,  according  to  my 
own  observations,  is.  or  has  been,  inhabited  by  this  species  of  sheep. 

Compared  with  the  argali.  which,  consiilering  its  size  and  the 
vast  extent  of  its  range,  is  probably  the  most  important  of  all  the 
wild  sheep,  our  species  is.  perhaps,  a  little  larger,  and  thi;  liorns  are 
more  regularly  curved  and  less  divergent.  The  more  important 
characteristics  are.  however,  essentially  the  same,  somi-  of  the  best 
naturalists  maintaining  that  the  two  are  only  varied  forms  of  one 
species.  In  accordance  with  this  view.  Cuvier  conjectures  that  the 
argali  may  have  been  distributed  over  this  continent  from  Asia  by 
crossing  Hehring  Straits  on  ice. 

On  account  of  the  extreme  variability  of  the  sheep  under  culture, 
it  is  generally  supposed  that  the  innumerable  domestic  breeds  have 
all  been  derived  from  the  few  wild  species ;  but  the  whole  (piestion  is 
involved  in  obscurity.  According  to  Darwin,  sheep  have  been 
domesticated  from  a  very  ancient  period,  the  remains  of  a  small  breed, 
differing  from  any  now  known,  having  been  found  in  the  famous 
Swiss  lake  dwellings. 

Compared  with  the  best- known  domestic  breeds,  we  find  that  our 
wild  sjjecies  is  more  than  twice  as  large  ;  and,  instead  of  an  all-wool 
garment,  the  wild  wears  a  thick  overcoat  of  hair  like  that  of  the  deer, 
and  an  under-covering  of  fine  wool.  The  hair,  though  rather  coarse, 
is  comfortably  soft  and  spongy,  and  lies  smooth,  as  if  carefully 
tended  with  cotnb  and  brush.  The  predominant  color  during  most 
of  the  year  is  brownish-gray,  varying  to  bluish-gray  in  the  autumn  ; 
the  belly  and  a  large,  conspicuous  patch  on  the  buttocks  are  white  ; 
and  the  tail,  which  is  very  short,  like  that  of  a  ileer,  is  black,  with  a 
yellowish  border.  The  wool  is  always  white,  and  grows  in  beautiful 
spirals  down  out  of  sight  among  the  straight,  shining  hair,  like  deli- 
cate climbing  vines  among  stalks  of  corn. 

The  horns  of  the  male  are  of  immense  size,  measuring  in  their 
greater  diameter  from  five  to  six  and  a  half  inches,  and  from  two  and 
a  half  to  three  feet  in  length  around  the  curve.  They  arc  yellowish- 
white  in  color,  and  ridged  transversely,  like  those  of  the  domestic 
ram.  Their  cross-section  near  the  base  is  .somewhat  triangular  in 
outline  and  flattened  over  toward  the  tip.     In  rising  from  the  head, 


1 


\  i 


J 


284  The  IVild  Sheep  of  the  Sierra. 

they  curve  gently  backward  and  outward,  then  forward  and  outward, 
until  about  three-fourths  of  a  circle  is  described,  and  until  the  flat- 
tened, blunt  tips  are  about  two  feet  apart.  Those  of  the  female  are 
flattened  throughout  their  entire  length,  less  curved  than  those 
of  the  male,  and  much  smaller,  measuring  less  than  a  foot  along  the 
curve. 

.\  ram  and  ewe  that  I  obtained  near  the  Modoc  lava-beds,  to  the 
north-east  of  Mount  Shasta,  measured  as  follows  : 

Ram,  ft.  in.     Ewe,  ft.  in. 

Height  .at  shoulders 36  30 

(lirtli  around  shoulders 311  3     3^ 

Length  from  n().se  to  root  of  tail 5   vo^  4     ^y^ 

Length  of  ears o     4^  o     5 

Length  of  tail o     4^  o     4^^ 

Length  of  horns  around  curve 29  oii'a 

Distance  across  from  tip  to  tip  of  horns 2     5'^, 

Circumference  of  horns  at  base 14  06 


\   • 


m 


The  measurements  of  a  male  obtained  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
by  .\udubon  vary  but  little  as  compared  with  the  above. 

The  weight  of  his  specimen  was  three  hundred  and  forty-four 
pounds,*  which  is,  perhaps,  about  an  average  for  full-grown  males. 
The  females  are  about  a  third  lighter. 

Besides  these  differences  in  size,  color,  clothing,  etc.,  as  noted 
above,  we  niay  observe  that  the  domestic  sheep,  in  a  general  way,  is 
expressionless,  like  a  dull  bundle  of  something  only  half  alive,  while 
the  wild  is  as  elegant  and  graceful  as  a  deer,  and  every  movemct 
tells  the  strength  and  grandeur  of  his  character.  The  tame  is  timid  ; 
the  wild  is  bold.  The  tame  is  always  more  or  less  rufiled  and  dirty ; 
while  the  wild  is  as  smooth  and  clean  as  the  flowers  of  his  mountain 
pastures. 

The  earliest  mention  that  1  have  been  able  to  find  of  the  wild 
sheep  in  America  is  by  I'^ather  Picolo.  a  Catholic  missionary  at  Mon- 
terey, in  the  year  1797,  who,  after  describing  it,  oddly  enough,  as 
"a  kind  of  deer  with  a  sheep-like  head,  and  about  as  large  as  a  calf 
one  or  two  years  old,"  naturally  hurries  on  to  remark  :  "  I  have 
eaten  of  these  beasts ;  their  flesh  is  very  tender  and  delicious." 
Mack<?nzie,  in  his  northern  travels,  heard  the  species  spoken  of  by 

•  Audubon  and  Bachman's  "  Quadrupeds  of  North  .\merica." 


.;f    '^i 


i 


rt 


IIKAI)    OK    Tin.    M1.RISO    RAM     (hOMFSlK.). 


IKWVN     IIV     lAMI  s    (  .    IIKAKI). 


^^■n 

,1 . 

M 

iffi 

V 

1 

1 

M 

1 

i 

1 

f^ 

■91 

|: 

1. 

I  its 


!  , 

'  I 


The  II  lUi  Sheep  of  the  Sierra. 


287 


the  Incliuns  as  '•  whitt-  l)uffalofs."  Anil  Lewis  ami  Clark  tdl  us  that, 
in  a  time  of  j^rcat  scarcity  nn  the  head- waters  of  the  Missouri,  in 
their  journeys  they  saw  plenty  of  wild  sheep,  hut  they  were  "too 
shy  to  he  shot." 

A  few  of  the  more  enerjijetic  of  the  Pah  I'te  Intlianshunt  the;  wild 
sheep  every  .season  amonj^  the  more  accessible  of  the  California 
Alps,  in  the  neij^hhorhood  of  passes,  where,  from  havinj^j  been  pur- 
sued, they  have  at  lenj^th  become  extremely  wary;  but  in  the  ruj^rj^ed 
wiltlerness  of  peaks  and  canons,  when;  the  foamini;  tributaries  of  the 
San  Joaijuin  and  King's  rivers  take  their  rise,  they  fear  no  lumttrr 
save  the  wolf,  and  are  more  guileless  and  approachable  than  tlu:ir 
tame  kindred. 

1  have  been  greatly  interested  in  studying  their  habits  during  the 
last  ten  years,  while  engaged  in  the  work  of  i-.xploring  those  high 
regions  where  they  delight  to  roam.  In  the  months  of  November 
and  December,  and  probably  during  a  considerable  portion  of  miil- 
winter,  they  all  flock  together,  male  and  female,  old  and  young.  I 
once  found  a  complete  band  of  this  kind  numbering  upward  of  fifty, 
which,  on  being  alarmed,  went  bounding  away  across  a  jagged  lava- 
bed  at  admirable  speed,  led  by  a  majestic  old  ram,  with  the  lambs 
safe  in  the  middle  of  the  flock. 

In  spring  and  summer,  the  full-grown  rams  form  separate  banils 
of  from  three  to  twenty,  and  are  usually  found  feeding  along  the  edges 
of  glacier  meadows,  or  resting  among  the  castle-like  crags  of  the 
high  summits;  and  whether  (piietly  feeding  or  scaling  the  wild  cliffs 
for  pleasure,  their  noble  forms  and  the  power  anil  beauty  of  their 
movements  never  fail  to  strike  the  beholder  with  lively  admiration. 

Their  resting-place  seems  to  be  chosen  with  ref-rence  to  sun- 
shine anil  a  wide  outlook,  and  most  of  all  to  safet)-  from  the  attacks 
of  wolves.  Their  feeding-grounds  are  among  the  most  beautiful  of 
the  wild  gardens,  bright  with  daisies,  and  gentians,  and  mats  of  pur- 
ple bryanthus,  lying  hidden  away  on  rock\  headlands  and  canon 
sides,  where  sunshine  is  abundant,  or  down  in  shady  glacier  valleys, 
along  the  banks  of  the  streams  and  lakes,  where  the  plushy  sod  is 
greenest.  Here  they  feast  all  summer,  the  happy  wanderers,  per- 
haps relishing  the  beauty  as  well  as  the  taste  of  the  lovely  flora  on 
which  they  feed,  however  slow  tame  men  may  be  to  guess  their 
capacity  beyond  gra.ss. 


-■^-■'  ■■'--"  " 


•  !   i 


288 


riic  mid  Slurp  of  tliv  Sicrm. 


4 


When  winter  storms  set  in,  loatlinj^f 
their  hij^hlanil  pastures  with  snow,  then, 
like  the  l)irils,  they  j^ather  and  jfo  to 
warmer  chmates.  usually  tlescenclinj^r  the 
eastern  flank  of  the  ranj^e  to  the  rouj^di, 
volcanic  table-lands  and  treeless  ranj^es 
of  the  (ireat  Hasin  ailjacenl  to  the  Sierra. 
They  nt.'ver  make  haste,  however,  aiul 
seem  to  have  no  dreatl  of  storms,  many 
of  the  stronjjest  only  }j;oing  down  leis- 
urely to  bare,  wind-swe|)t  rid},fes,  to  feetl 
on  bushes  and  dry  l)imch-«rrass,  and  then 
returninj^  u|)  into  the  snow.  Once  I  was 
snow-bound  on    Mount  Shasta  for  three 


The  IVild  SliCi'P  of  tliv  iiicrro. 


289 


tlays,  a  littk;  hclow  the  tinil)cr-linc.  It  was  a  dark  and  stormy  time, 
well  calculated  to  test  the  skill  and  emliirance  of  mountaineers. 
The  snow-laden  ijale  drove  on.  nij^ht  and  day,  in  hissin«f,  hlindinif 
floods,  and  when  at  len<fth  it  he.i^an  to  ai)ate.  1  found  that  a  small 
band  of  wild  sheep  had  weathered  the  storm  in  the  V-v.  of  a  clump 
of  dwarf  pines  a  few  yards  above  mv  storm-nest,  where  the  snow 
was  eijfht  or  ten  feet  deep.  I  was  warm  l)ack  of  a  rock,  with 
blankets,  bread,  and  fire.  My  brave  companions  lay  in  the  snow, 
without  fooil,  and  with  only  the  partial  shelter  of  the  short  trees,  yet 
made  no  siijn  of  suffering;  or  faintheartedness. 

In  the  months  of  May  and  June,  they  brini;  forth  their  younj.^,  in 
th(?  most  solitary  and  inaccessible  crates,  far  above  the  nestiny^- rocks 
ot  the  eaj^le.  I  have  fnicjuently  come  upon  the  bids  of  the  ewes  and 
Iambs  at  an  elevation  of  from  twelve  to  thirteen  thousand  fi^et  above 
sea-level.  These  beds  are  sinifjly  oval-shaped  hollows,  pawed  out 
>9 


J  J 


m 


1 

■ 

IhI 

■        I 

HIS' 

\  'S 

If 

mmii  I 


I  'I 


If 


290 


'/'//I'   lyiU  Slurft  of  the  Sicrnt. 


amonj^f  Idosc,  disiiucj^ratiiij;  rock -chips  aiul  saiul.  upon  soim-  sunny 
spot  connnanilinjf  a  j^txul  outlook  anil  partiall)  shfltcrcil  from  the 
winds  that  sweep  those  lofty  peaks  ahnost  without  intermission. 
Such  is  the  cratile  of  tiie  little  mountaineer,  aloft  in  the  ver\  sky  ; 
rockeil  in  storms,  curtaineil  in  clouils.  sleepiuij  in  thin,  ic)  air ; 
hut.  wrapped  in  his  hairy  coat,  and  nourishetl  hy  a  stronj,;.  warm 
mother,  defended  from  the  talons  of  the  ea)i,de  and  teeth  of  tin-  sly 
coyote,  the  honnie  lamh  j^rows  a|)ace.  lie  soon  learns  to  nibhli-  the 
tufteil  rock-},jrasses  anil  li-aves  of  the  white  spira-a  ;  his  horns 
hejfin  to  shoot,  and  before  summer  is  done  he  is  strong  and  ayile. 
and  jfoes  forth  with  the  Hock,  watched  by  the  same  divine  love 
that  tends  thi.'  more  helpless  human  lamh  in  its  warm  cradle  l)\  the 
fireside. 

Xothinj^;  is  more  commonly  remarked  by  noisy,  dusty  trail- 
travelers  in  the  hijjjh  Sierra  than  the  want  of  animal  lifi: — no  birds, 
no  deer,  no  squirrels,  liut  if  such  could  only  i^o  away  ijiiietly  into 
the  wilderness,  saunterinjL;  afoot  with  natural  ileliberation.  they  would 
soon  learn  that  these  mountain  mansions  are  not  without  inhabitants, 
many  of  whom,  confidinir  and  gentle,  would  not  try  to  shun  their 
acquaintance. 

In  the  fall  of  187.;.  I  was  tracinj,;-  the  South  l-'ork  of  the  San 
Joaquin  up  its  wild  canon  to  its  farthest  i,daciir  fountains.  It  was 
the  season  of  .Alpine  Indian  summer.  The  sun  beanu;d  loviuji^ly ; 
the  squirrels  were  nutting  in  the  pine-trees,  buttertlies  hovered  about 
the  last  of  tlii'  i^olden-rods,  willow  anil  maple  thickets  wi-re  \ellow, 
the  meadows  were  brown,  and  the  whole  sunny,  mellow  landscape 
ji^lowed  like  a  countenance  with  the  deepest  and  sweetest  repose. 
On  my  wa\  over  the  shinim;.  glacier-polished  rocks  alonij  the  foam- 
ing river.  I  came  to  an  expanded  portion  of  the  canon,  about  two 
miles  loni,'^  and  half  a  mile  wide,  inclosed  with  pictures(|iii;  ijranite 
walls,  like  those  of  \'osemite  \'alle\.  the  river  pourinij  its  crystal 
floods  thrc)ui;h  y^arden.  meadow,  and  strove  in  many  a  sun- span <,,ded 
curve. 

This  hidden  N'osemite  was  full  of  wild  life.  Deer,  with  their 
supple,  well-thrown  fawns,  bounded  from  thicket  to  thicket  as  I 
advanced,  (irouse  kept  risiniL,^  from  the  brown  _t;rass  with  a  j^reat 
whirrinjT  of  winj^s.  and.  alit^htint;-  on  low  branches  of  pine  or  poplar, 
allowed  a  near  approach,  as  if  pleaseil  to  be  observed.      Farther  on. 


TIh    ll'i/if  S/ii'cp  of  the  Sierra. 


291 


I  Ml       W    \  I  I    K-lll    ~KI. 


;i  liroiul  shouUU'rcd  wilil-ciit  slmwcil  hiinsfll',  loiniiiL;  «>iil  ol  a  nn>vt', 
aiul  crossiii!^-  llu-  rivitr  on  a  lldod-jainl)  of  l<i;«;s,  halting  tor  a  moim-nl 
to  look  hack.  Thf  bird  liki'  lamias  frisked  al»oiit  my  t<('t  t\<ry- 
wluTc;  anionic  tin-  piiic-iUHHllcs  and  seedy  i;rass-tutts.  Cranes  waded 
tin-  shallows  of  tlu'  river-bends,  the  kinj^hslier  rattled  from  ])erch  to 
perch,  anil  the  l)Ussi'il  ousel  sany  amid  the  s|)ray  of  ever\  cascade. 
Where   may  lonely  wanderer  find  a  more  beautiful  family  oi  mount- 


4 


;! 


■I 


1 


i'  m 


'I 


ii 


i  ''i 


292 


yytr  II  'iU  S//(r/>  of  the  Sicffit. 

ain-dwcllcrs,  i-arth 
horn  coinpanions, 
and  If  I  low  mortals? 
It  was  alu-moon 
when  1  joincil  tlicm, 
anil  the  j^florioiis 
lanilscapf  fadcil  in 
tin-  j,floaniin^  hi'lbri' 
I    awokf  from  their  enciiantmcnt.     Then 


WII.I.IAMSIIN   M'Kl  CK     I  KKK. 


I  sought  a  camp  j,'roiinil  on  tlie  river-hank, 
made  a  cupful  of  tea.  and  lay  down  to 
slicp  on  a  smooth  place  amonjr  the  yellow 
leaves  of  an  aspen  j^rove.  Next  day,  I 
discovereil  yet  jjjrant'er  lamlscapes  and 
i^rander  life.  l'"ollowinjf  the  curves  of  the 
river,  over  luij^«'.  swellinjf  rock-hosses,  and 
past  innumerahle  cascades,  the  v.cnery  in 
}^(;neral  hecame  jj^raihially  more  Alpine. 
The  sujfar-pine  and  silver-fir  jravc  place  to 
th('  hartlier  ceilar  and  Williamson  spruce. 
The  cafion  walls  hecame  more  ruj^fj^ed  and  hart',  and  gentians  and 
Arctic  ilaisies  hecame  more  ahundant  in  the  j^ardens  and  strips  of 
meailow  alonj^f  the  streams.  'I'oward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  I 
came  to  another  valley,  strikinjL,dy  wild  and  orij^qnal  in  all  its  features, 
and  perhaps  never  hefore  touched  hy  human  foot.  .\s  retjards  area 
of  level  hottom-Iand,  it  is  one  of  the  very  smallest  of  the  San  Joatjuin 
Yosemites,  i)ut  its  walls  are  suhlime  in  heii^ht,  risin<^  at  a  i)ound  into 
the  thin  sky  two  to  four  thousand  feet  ahove  the  river.  .\t  the  head 
of  the  valley  the  main  canon  forks,  as  is  found  to  be  the  case  in  all 
Yosemites.  'I'he  formation  of  this  oni;  is  due  to  the  action  of  two 
vast  ice-rivers,  whose  fountains  lay  to  the  eastward,  on  the  flanks  of 
Mounts  Humphrey  anil  Emerson,  and  a  cluster  of  nameless  peaks 
farther  south.  On  the  slow  recession  of  those  rock-j^rindin}^  jjlaciers, 
at  the  close  of  the  (ilacial  Period,  this  valley  hasin  came  to  li_i«ht: 
first  a  lake,  then  a  sedj^y  meadow,  then,  after  being  filled  in  with 
flood  and  avalanche  bowlders,  and  planteil  with  trees  and  j^rasses,  it 
became  the  Yosemite  of  to-day — a  ranj^e  for  wild  sheep  and  wild 
men. 


;iii 


m 


The  li'ilii  Sheep  of  the  Sierra. 


293 


Tlu-  j^ray  howlilcr-clialccl  river  was  sinj^nn^f  louilly  tliroiii^li  tlu; 
valli-y,  bill  al)t>vt!  its  massy  roar  I  hcanl  the  (\vk\\^  liooinirij^r  of  a 
wattr-fall.  wiiich  drew  me  ea^'erly  on.      Kmerj^inj,'  I'rom  th(-  tanj,'i«'il 


l\    A   SII.KNA    IOK1.M. 


avalamlu:  of  j^rovcs  and  hrii-rs  at  the  head  of  the  valley,  there,  in 
lull  view,  appeared  the  \()imif  San  J()a(|uin  fresh  from  its  Ljlaiier 
fountains,  fallinj^  while  and  fret-  in  a  ijlorious  cascade,  ltetwc<n 
i^ranite  walls  two  thousand  feet  hijijh.  Tlu;  steep  incline  down 
which  the  j^jlad  waters  thundered  seemed  to  bar  all  farther  proi^ress. 
It  was  not  lontr,  however,  before  I  discoxi-nd  a  crooked  si'am  in  th<' 
rock,  by  which  I  was  enabled  to  dind)  to  the  edyc  of  a  ti-rrace  thai 
crosses  the  canon  and  iliviiies  the  cataract  nearly  in  the  middle. 
Hi-re  I  sat  down  to  take  breath  and  make  some  entries  in  my  note- 
book, takinjj;  advantaj^e,  at  the  same  time,  of  my  elevated  position 
I9A 


I 


J 


i 


1! 


I    '    5 


294 


The  IFild  Sliccp  of  the  Sieira. 


al)()vo  tlic  trees  to  ga.^o  hack  over  the  valley  into  the  iuart  of  the 
nohle  landscape,  little  knowinLj  the  while  what  neis^hhors  were  near. 
After  spendinir  a  few  irretrular  minutes  in  this  way,  I  chanced  to 
look  across  the  fall,  and  there  stood  three  sheep  (juietly  ohservinij 
me.  Never  did  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  mountain,  or  water-fall, 
or  human  friend,  so  forcibly  seize  and  rivet  my  attention.  Anxiety 
to  observe  accurately  on  so  rare;  an  occasion  checked  boisterous 
enthusiasm.  I'-aj^erly  I  marked  the  flowiny^  undulations  of  their 
firm,  braided  muscles,  their  stront^-  lev,^s,  ears,  eyes,  heads,  their 
graceful,  rounded  necks,  the  color  of  their  hair,  and  the  bold, 
upsweepinij,  cycloidal  curve  of  their  noble  horns.  When  they 
moved,  I  devoured  everv  wsture,  while  thev,  in  nowise  disconcerted 
either  by  my  attention  or  by  the  tumultuous  roar  of  the  fallinjr 
water,  advanced  deliberately  alontjside  the  rapids  between  the  two 
dinsions  of  the  cataract,  turninij^  now  and  then  to  look  at  me. 
Presently  they  came  to  a  steep,  ice-burnisluxl  acclivity,  which  they 
asceniled  by  a  quick  succession  of  short,  stiff- le^JLjcd  leaps,  reaching; 
the  top  without  a  struirule.  This  was  the  most  startlinjf  feat  of 
mountaineering^  i  had  ever  witnessed,  and,  considering;'  only  the 
mechanics  of  the  thini,^  one's  astonishment  could  hardly  have  been 
_t,''reater  hail  they  displayed  winirs  and  taken  to  tlii^ht.  ".Sure-footed 
mules  "  on  such  i^round  would  have  fallen  and  rolleil  like  loosened 
bowlders.  Many  a  time,  where  the  slopes  were  far  lower,  1  have 
been  compelled  to  take  off  my  shoes  antl  stockinjjjs,  tie  them  to  my 
bell,  and  creep  baretooi  with  the  utmost  caution.  No  wonder,  then, 
that  I  watched  the  progress  of  these  animal  mountaineers  with  keen 
sympathy,  and  exulted  in  the  boundless  sufficiency  of  wild  nature 
dis|)layeil  in  their  invention,  construction,  and  ki'eping.  Hut  judge 
the  measure  of  my  good  ft)rtune  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  I  caught 
sight  of  a  dozen  more  in  one  band,  near  the  foot  of  the  upper  fall. 
They  were  standing  on  the  sann:  side  of  the  river  with  me,  distant 
only  twenty-five  or  thirty  yards,  and  looking  as  unworn  and  perfect 
as  if  created  on  the  spot.  It  appeared  by  their  tracks,  which  1  had 
seen  on  the  meadow,  and  by  their  present  position,  that  when  I 
came  up  the  caiion  they  were  all  feeiling  together  down  in  the  val- 
ley, and  in  their  haste  to  reach  high  ground,  where  they  could  look 
about  them  to  ascertain  the  nature  of  the  strange  disturbanci;,  they 
were  divided,  three  ascendin<f  on  one  side  die  river,  the  rest  on  the 


The  II  lid  Sheep  of  the  Sierm. 


295 


M 


\  ,  \ 


1 1 


IKO.^^lNc.     A     I  ANLIN     >IK1;AM. 


)  \\\l 


other.  Tlic  iiKiip.  hand,  headed  l)y  an  experit-necd  rhicf,  now  hc^an 
to  cross  the  ra|)ids.  Tiiis  was  another  exciting'  teat;  lor,  anion^'  all 
the  varied  experiences  of  nu)untaini;ers,  the  crossing;  of  boisterous, 
rock-dashed  torrents  is  fonnd  to  he  the  most  tr\  inj;  to  the  nerves. 
^'et  these  tine,  hraxc  tellows  walked  tearlessly  to  the  hrink,  and 
junii)ed  from  howld(M-  to  howlder,  holdinj^;  themselves  in  pertect 
poise  ahove  the  whirlii-!i;,  contusing  cnrrent,  as  it"  the\-  were  doini;" 
nothin}4'  extraordinary. 

The;  immediate  Ibrci^round  of  this  rare  pictin'e  was  i^loss\',  ice- 
hiirnishc'd  granite,  traversed  h\-  a  tew  hold  lines  in  which  Ljrt-w  rock- 
ferns  and  tnfts  of  healthy  hryanthns,  with  tin;  ,tii*ii)'  canon  walls  on 
die    sides    nohly    sculptured    and    adorned    with    hrown    cedars   and 


Ui. 


:^\ 


( , ' 


iii' 


296 


TAc  ff'//i/  Sheep  of  the  Sierm. 


pines.  In  the  distance  were  lofty  peaks  clipping  into  the  azure,  and 
in  the  middle-ground  was  the  snowy  fall,  the  voice  and  soul  of  the 
landscape ;  fringing  bushes  beating  time  to  its  thunder-tones,  the 
brave  sheep  in  front  of  it ;  their  gray  forms  slightly  obscured  in  the 
spray,  yet  standing  out  in  good  heavy  relief  against  the  close  white 
water,  —  their  huge  horns  rising  and  curving  in  the  midst  like  the 
upturned  roots  of  dead  pine-trees,  while  the  evening  sunbeams 
streaming  up  the  caiion  gilded  and  glorified  all.  After  crossing  the 
river,  the  dauntless  climbers,  led  on  by  their  chief,  at  once  began  to 
scale  the  canon  wall,  turning  now  right,  now  left,  in  long,  single 
hie,  keeping  well  apart  out  of  one  another's  way,  and  leaping  in 
regular  succession  from  crag  to  crag,  now  ascending  slippery  dome- 
curves,  now  walking  leisurely  along  the  edges  of  precipices,  stop- 
ping, at  times,  to  gaze  down  at  me  from  some  flat-topped  rock,  with 
heads  held  aslant,  as  if  curious  to  learn  what  I  thought  about  it.  or 
whether  1  was  likely  to  follow  them.  After  reaching  the  top  of  the 
wall,  which,  at  this  place,  is  somewhere  between  one  thousand  five 
hundred  and  two  thousand  feet  high,  they  were  still  visible  against 
the  sky  as  they  lingered,  looking  down  in  groups  of  two  or  three, 
giving  rare  animation  to  the  wilderness. 

Throughout  the  entirt;  ascent  they  did  not  make  a  single  awkward 
step,  or  an  unsuccessful  effort  of  any  kind.  I  have  frequently  seen 
tame  sheep  in  mountains  jump  upon  a  sloping  rock-surface,  hold  on 
tremulously  a  few  seconds,  and  fall  back  baffled  and  irresolute.  Hut 
in  the  most  trying  situations,  where  the  slightest  want  or  inaccuracy 
would  have  resulted  in  destruction,  these  always  seemed  to  move  in 
comfortable  reliance  on  their  strength  and  skill,  the  limits  of  which 
they  never  appeared  to  know.  Moreover,  each  one  of  the  flock, 
while  following  the  guidance  of  the  most  e.xperienced,  yet  climbed 
with  intelligent  independence  as  a  perfect  individual,  capable  of  sep- 
arate existence  whenever  it  should  wish  or  be  comjjelled  to  withdraw 
from  the  little  clan.  The  domestic  sheep,  on  the  contrary,  is  only  a 
fraction  of  an  animal,  a  whole  flock  being  required  to  form  an  indi- 
vidual, just  as  numerous  florets  are  required  to  make  one  complete 
sunflower. 

Those  she|)herds  who.  in  summer,  drive  their  flocks  to  the  mount- 
ain pastures,  and,  while  watching  them  night  and  day,  have  seen 
them  torn  to  pieces  by  bears,  disintegrated  by  scorms,  and  scattered 


The  IVilci  Sheep  of  the  Siena. 


297 


diverse  like  wind-driven  chaff,  will,  in  some  measure,  be  able  to  appre- 
ciate the  self-reliance  and  strength  and  noble  individuality  of  nature's 
sheep. 

Like  the  Aip-climbinjj^  ibex  of  Hurope,  our  mountaineer  is  said  to 
plunge  headlong  down  the  faces  of  sheer  precipices  anil  alight  on  his 
big  horns.  1  know  only  two  hunters  who  claim  to  have  actually  wit- 
nessed this  feat.  I  never  was  so  fortunate.  They  tlescribe  the  act 
as  a  diving  head-foremost.  The  horns  are  so  large  at  the  base  that 
they  cover  all  the  upper  portion  of  the  head  down  nearly  to  a  level 
with  the  eyes,  and  the  skull  is  e.xceedingly  strong.  I  struck  an  old, 
bleached  specimen  on  Mount  Ritter  a  dozen  blows  with  my  ice-a.\e 
without  breaking  it.  .Such  skulls  would  not  fracture  very  readily  by 
the  wildest  rock-diving,  but  other  bones  could  hardly  be  e.\pecled  to 
hoKl  together  in  such  a  performance  ;  and  the  mechanical  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  controlling  their  movements,  after  striking  upon  an 
irregular  surface,  are,  in  themselves,  sufficient  to  show  this  bowlder- 
like method  of  prf)gression  to  be  impossible,  even  in  the  absence  of  all 
other  evidence  on  the  subject  ;  moreover,  the  ewes  follow  wherever 
the  rams  may  lead,  and  their  horns  are  mere  spik(;s.  I  have  found 
many  pairs  of  horns  considerably  battered  —  a  result,  most  likely,  of 
fighting,  though,  when  a  great  leap  is  made,  they  may  possibly  seek 
to  lighten  the  shock  by  striking  their  heads  against  anything  that 
may  chance  to  l)e  favorably  situated  for  the  purpose,  just  as  men 
mountaineers  do  with  their  hands.  I  have  been  interested  in  the 
question,  after  witnessing  the  performances  of  the  San  Joaquin  band 
upon  the  glaciated  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  falls,  and  as  soon  as  I 
procured  specimens  and  e.xamined  their  feet,  all  the  mystery  disap- 
peared. The  secret,  considered  in  connection  with  exceptionally 
strong  muscles,  is  sim|)ly  this :  the  w  ide  posterior  portion  of  the 
bottom  of  the  foot,  instead  of  wearing  down  and  becoming  flat  and 
hard,  like  the  feet  of  tame  sheep  and  horses,  bulges  out  in  a  soft, 
rubber-like  pad  or  cushion,  which  not  only  grips  and  holils  well  on 
smooth  rocks,  but  fits  in  small  cavities,  and  down  u|)on  or  against 
slight  protuberances.  I'^ven  the  hardest  portions  of  the  edge  of  the 
hoof  are  comparatively  soft  and  elastic  ;  furthermore,  the  toes  admit  of 
an  extraordinary  amount  of  both  lateral  and  vertical  motion,  allowing 
the  foot  to  accommodate  itself  still  more  perfectly  to  the  irregularities 
of  rock  surfaces,  and  at  the  same  time  increasing  the  gripping  power. 


1 

I     1 


'.3 


rm 


\ 


T'l  i'/ii 


•it 


I 


m 


If! 


m 


!i: 


[}:■ 

m 


¥' 


r\ 


ml 


u 


298  7/ii'  U'ild  Sheep  of  the  Siefm. 

f^-:-  -  -         .  ^^  At  the  base  of  Sheep  Rock,  one  of 

the  winter  strongholds  of  the  Shasta 
flocks,  there  lives  a  stock-raiser  wlio 
has  the  advantage  of  observing  the 
movements  of  wild  sheep  every  winter; 
and,  in  the  course  of  a  conversation 
with  him  on  the  subject  of  their 
diving  habits,  he  pointed  to  the  front 
of  a  lava  headland  about  a  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  high  which  is  only  eight 
or  ten  degrees  out  of  the  perpendic- 
ular. "  Tiiere,"  saiil  he,  "I  followed 
a  band  of  them  fellows  to  the  back 
of  that  rock  yonder,  and  expected  to 
capture  th^m  all,  for  I  thought  I  had 
a  dead  thing  on  thcMU.  1  got  behind 
them  on  a  narrow  bench  that  runs 
along  the  face  of  the  wall  near  the 
top  anil  comes  to  an  end  where  they 
couldn't  git  away  without  falling  and 
being  killed;  but  the\  jumped  off  and 
laniU.'il  all   right. 

"  What !"  said  I,  "jumped  a  hun- 
dred and  tiftv  fei't  !  Diil  you  see 
thi-'m  do  it  ?  " 

'•  No,"  he   replied,    "  1    didn't    see 
them    going  down,  for    I   was  behind 
them  ;  but  1  saw  them  go  off  over  the 
brink,    and    tlnn    I    went    below   and 
found  their  tracks  where  they  struck 
on  tin,'  loose  debris  at  the  lH)t- 
tom.    The)-  sailed  rio/i/  oJj\  and 
landed  on  their  feet  right  side 
up.       That's  the  kind  of  animal 
^iftl^      tlicx    is — beats    anything    else 
that  goes  on   four  legs." 
On   another  occasion,  a   flock   that  was   pursued   by   hunters  re- 
treated  to  another  portion  of  this  same  cliff  where  it  is  still  higher. 


'•♦.''i  J    

JlMlMSi;    UVKR    .\    I'KKlll'K  K 


ii!' 


^iit..     I 


The  It'iU  Sheep  of  the  Siena. 


299 


and,  on  l)cinL,r  followed,  tlicy  were  seen  jumpiny  down  in  [Hirlcct 
order,  oni;  t)cliind  another,  by  two  men  who  happened  to  he  chop- 
pintr  where  they  had  a  fair  view  of  them  and  could  watch  their  prog- 
ress from  top  to  bottom.  Both  ewes  and  rams  made  the  friL,dufiil 
descent  without  evincinj^^  any  extraordinary  concern,  huj^^oino  dose 
to  the  rock,  and  controliinj;-  the  \eh)city  of  their  half  fallinj^,  half 
leapinjr  movements  by  strikinsj^  at  short  intervals  and  holding  back 
with  their  cushioneil,  rubber  feet  upon  small  letl^es  and  roui^hened 
inclines  until  near  the  bottom,  when  they  "sailed  off"  into  tin;  free 
air  and  ali.y;hted  on  their  feet,  but  with  their  bodies  so  nearly  in  a 
vertical  position  that  they  appeared  to  be  divinr. 

It  ap])ears,  therefore,  that  the  m(,'thods  of  this  wild  mountaineer- 
xw^  become  clearly  comprehensible  as  soon  as  we  make  ourselves 
ac(|uainted  with  the  rocks,  anil  the  kind  of  feet  and  muscles  broui^ht 
to  bear  upon  them. 

The  Moiloc  antl  Pah  Lie  Indians  are,  or,  rather,  havf  been,  the 
most  successful  hunters  of  the  wilil  sht-ep.  ("ireal  numbers  of  heads 
anil  horns  belonjji'ini;'  to  animals  killeil  by  them  are  found  accumu- 
lated in  the  caves  of  the  lava-beds  and  Mount  .Shasta,  and  in  the 
upper  canons  of  the  Alps  opposite  Owens  X'alley,  while  the  heavy 
obsidian  arrowheads  found  on  some  of  tiie  his^hest  peaks  show  that 
this  warfare  has  lonj.;"  been  L,^oin_ir  on. 

In  the  more  accessibk;  ranges  that  stretch  across  the  desert  re- 
gions of  western  L'lah  and  Nevada,  considerable  numbers  of  Indians 
used  to  hunt  in  compau)-  like  packs  of  wolves,  and  beinjj^  i)erfectly 
acquainted  with  the  topography  of  their  hunting-grounds,  and  with 
the  habits  and  instincts  of  the  game,  the\-  were  pretty  successful. 
On  the  tops  of  nearly  every  one  of  the  Nevada  mountains  that  I 
have  visited,  1  fouml  small,  nest-like  inclosures  built  of  stones,  in 
which,  as  I  afterward  learned,  one  or  more  Indians  lay  in  wait 
while  their  companions  scoured  the  ridges  below,  knowing  that 
the  alarmed  sheep  would  surely  run  to  the  summit,  and  when  thi-y 
could  be  made  to  approach  with  the  wind  they  were  shot  and  killed 
at  short  range. 

Still  larger  bands  of  Indians  used  to  make  grand  hunts  upon 
some  dominant  mountain  much  frequented  by  the  sheep,  such  as 
Mount  ("irant.  on  the  W'assuck  Range  to  the  west  of  Walker  Lake. 
On  some   particular   spot  favorably  situated  with   reference  to   the 


\\ 


.-•1 


mT 


300 


'/'//('  lllhf  Sheep  of  tlie  Sierm. 


),:.!, 


IMil.\S>,    HINTING    Willi    Slll.l.l', 


■  ;  1 


well-known  trails  of  the  sheep,  thi-y  hiiilt  a  hioh-walled  corral,  with 
long  i^^uidins^r  \viny;s,  iliver_i,Mnn'  from  the  y^ate-way  ;  anil  into  this  in- 
dosiire  they  sometimes  succeedeil  in  driving  the  noble  iT'iint^-  Cireat 
numbers  of  Indians  were,  of  course,  requireil  —  more,  inched,  than 
they  could  usually  muster,  countinsj;  in  s(|ua\kS,  chiklren  and  all ;  they 
were  compelled,  therefore,  to  build  rows  of  dummy  hunters  out  of 
stones,  alonj^  the  ridge-tops  they  wishetl  to  prevent  the  sheep  from 
crossing.  And,  without  bringing  any  iliscredit  upon  the  sagacity 
of  the  game,  these  dummies  are  found  effectivi; ;  for,  with  a  few 
hve  Indians  moving  about  excitedly  among  them,  they  can  hardly 
be  distinguished  at  a  little  distance  from  men,  by  any  one  not  in 
the  secret.  The  whole  ridge-top  then  seems  to  be  alive  with 
hunters. 

The  only  animal  that  may  fairly  be  regarded  as  a  companion  of 
our  sheep  is  the  so-called   Rocky  Mountain   goat  ( Aploccriis  Man- 


The  II  lid  S/iccp  of  the  Sicrm. 


301 


lixna.  Rich.),  wliich.  as  its  nanu-  inclicalcs.  is  more  antel()|)c  than 
<foat.  I  If,  too,  is  a  l)ravc  and  hardy  climber,  fearlessly  acccjmpany- 
'w\<^  the  sheep  u\\  the  wildest  summits,  and  hravini,^  with  him  the 
severest  storms ;  hut  smaller  and  much  less  dij^nitied  in  demeanor. 
His  jet-l)lack  horns  are  only  ahout  five  or  six  inches  in  lenj^jth,  antl 
the  lon<,r  white  hair  with  which  he  is  covered  must  ohscure  the 
'•xpression  of  his  liml)s.  I  have  never  yet  seen  a  livini^  specimen  of 
this  American  chamois,  althoui^h  a  few  hands,  it  is  said,  have  heen 
found  in  the  .Sierra.  In  some  portions  of  tlu;  Kocky  and  Cascade 
mountains  it  occurs  in  flocks  of  consiilerahle  size,  where  it  is  easterly 
pursued  by  the  Indians,  who  make  use  of  its  skin  in  various  ways  as 
clothing',  that  of  the  head  with  the  horns  attached  beini^r  sometimes 
worn  as  a  caj). 

Three  sptxies  of  deer  are  found  in  California  —  tin-  black  tailed, 
white-tailed,  and  mule-ileer.  The  first  menlioneil  (  Ccrriis  Colnmbi- 
tiiiits J  is  by  far  the  most  abundant,  and  occasionally  meets  the  sheej) 
tlurinir  the  summer  on  hii^h  glacier  meadows  anil  alonjf  the  edge  of 
the  timber-line:  but,  being  a  forest  animal,  seiking  shelter  and  rear- 
ing its  young  in  ilense  thickets,  it  seldom  \  isits  tlu-  wild  sheep  in  its 
higher  homes.  The  antelope,  though  not  a  mountaineer,  is  occa- 
sionally met  in  winter  by  the  sheep  while  feeding  along  the  edges  of 
the  sage-plains  and  bare  volcanic  hills  to  the  east  of  the  Sierra.  So 
also  is  the  mule-deer,  which  is  almost  restricted  in  its  range  to  this 
eastern  region.  The  white-tailed  species  belongs  to  the  coast- 
ranges. 

Perhaps  no  wild  animal  in  the  world  is  without  enemies,  but 
highlanders,  as  a  class,  have  fewer  than  lowlanders.  The  wily  pan- 
ther, slipping  and  crouching  among  hjng  grass  and  bushes,  pounces 
upon  the  antelope  and  deer,  but  seldom  crosses  the  bald,  craggy 
thresholds  of  the  sheep.  Neither  can  the  bears  be  regardetl  as  ent:- 
mies ;  for  thoutrh  they  seek  to  varv  their  everv-dav  diet  of  nuts  and 
berries  by  an  occasional  meal  of  mutton,  they  prefer  to  hunt  tame 
and  helpless  flocks.  Eagles  and  coyotes,  no  doubt,  capture  an 
un|jrotected  laml)  at  times,  or  some  unfortunate  beset  in  deep,  soft 
snow,  but  these  cases  are  little  more  than  accidents.  So  also  a  few- 
perish  in  long-continued  snow-storms,  though  in  all  my  mountain- 
eering I  have  not  found  more  than  five  or  six  that  seemed  to  have 
met  their  fate  in  this  way.      A  little  band  of  three  were  discovered 


'  i  ■ 


I  ii>l 


^i 


1 


•nm 


\}  fl 


!R/ 


302 


y//r  /V/7(/  Slici'p  of  the  Sicrm. 


snow-bound  in  HlooiK  C^fion  a  few  years  aj^fo.  ami  were  killed  with 
an  axe  by  some  travelers  wliu  chanced  to  he  crossing,'  the  ranj^e  in 
winter. 

Man,  lu'ini;  the  nu)st  |»j)werfui.  is  the  most  danj^ferous  enemy  of 
all.  hut  even  from  him  our  lirave  mountain  dweller  has  little  to  ftrar 
in  the  remote  solitudes  of  the  Alps.  The  yolilen  plains  of  the  Sacra- 
mento and  San  Joa(|uin  were  lately  throns^cd  w  ith  hands  of  elk  ami 
antelope,  hut,  heinj^j  fertile  anil  accessihje,  they  were  retpiired  for 
human  pastures.  So  also  are  the  mas^nificent  fee-ilinn-iLjrounds  of  the 
deer — hill,  valley,  forest,  ami  meadow  ;  hut  it  will  Ik-  loni;  ere  man 
will  cart;  to  take  the  hit;hland  castles  of  ihi-  sheep.  .\nd  when  wc; 
c(»nsider  hen;  how  rapidly  entire  specit-s  of  iiohle  animals,  such  as 
the  elk.  moose,  and  buffalo,  arc  beiny  pusheti  to  the  very  verj>;e  of 
e.\tinction.  all  lovers  of  wildness  will  rejoice  with  me  in  the  rocky 
security  of  Ovi^  Moiitmia,  the  bravest  inhabitant  of  the  California 
Alps. 


II 


jllil 


rill'    ANTHL()1M{. 


\\\    (iKoKdr.    HIKI)    (IklN'NKM.,    I'm.    I). 


T\Ui  |)roiiir-h()ni  iintc'lopi.'  is  the  flci.-tcst  of  North  American 
mammals.  Its  every  movement  is  full  of  a  lightness  and  ease 
which  compel  admiration,  and  even  when  at  rest  it  is  beauti- 
fully and  jjjracefully  statuescjue.  It  is  a  s^oodly  siyht  to  watch  an  old 
buck  as  he  stands  outlined  aj.,fainst  the  horizon  on  the  top  of  some 
hit^h  bluff.  Mis  lej^^s  are  slim  antl  delicate,  while  his  round,  short 
body  tells  of  strenijth  and  endurance.  'Ihe  proudly  arched  neck 
supports  a  fuie  pointed  head,  and  the  smoothly  curvinj^  black  horns 
stand  out  silhouette-like  ajL,rainst  the  blue  of  the  unclouded  sky. 
Nearer  at  hand  are  some  tiny  kids,  not  ver)  far  from  their  j^ravely 
sedate  mothers.  They  walk  lightly  about  over  the  prairie  and 
daintily  pluck  the  grass  or  sometimes  run  sportive  races  with  each 
other.  Their  little  hoofs  scarcely  touch  tin;  ground,  and  when  they 
move  hither  and  thither,  they  seem  to  float  over  the  earth  rather 
than  to  tread  ujion  it.  They  are  the  very  embodiment  of  lightness 
and  grace,  and  are  withal  so  playful  and  merry-hearted  that  it  seems 
like  murder  to  take  their  lives.  \'et  they  are  (]uick  to  catch  the 
alarm,  and  if  the  old  buck  on  the  hill  above  should  sound  his  call  of 
warning,  the  little  company  would  dart  away  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind  —  soon  to  be  far  from  the  threatened  danger. 

The  prong-horn  antelope  occupies  a  uniijue  position  among  the 
horned  ruminants.  Helonging  to  that  subdivision  of  the  group 
styled   Cuviconiiii*  it  yet  sheds  its  horns  annually.      .As  has  been 


i\    m 


I  ;  (.; 


;i!> 


•  For  some  remarks  cm  this  siilxlivision  of  the  ruminants,  see  the  chapter  on  'I'he 
North  American  Ccrriiiw  in  this  volume. 


in'  ' 


304 


The  .lutclopc. 


i( 


!  hi 


f 


already  explained,  the  horns  of  North  American  ruminants  are  of 
two  kinds:  solid,  like  those  of  the  deer,  and  hollow,  like  those  of 
the  ox.  '!'()  this  latter  class  i)el()n}r  those  o\'  the  antelope,  hut  with 
this  moditication,  that  the  horny  epiilermic  sheath  which  incloses 
them  is  not,  as  is  the  case  with  all  other  hollow-horneil  ruminants, 
a  permanent  covering;.  The  /ooloj^ist  knows  that  scales,  feathers, 
hair,  claws,  hoofs,  ami  horns  are  hut  iiuulihcations  of  the  epiilermis, 
and  jrrade  into  one  another  in  such  a  wa\  that  it  is  often  impos- 
sible to  deciile  at  what  point  one  form  of  coverinj^j  ends  anil  another 
he_i;ins.  The  sheath  of  the  antilope's  horn  is  one  form  of  dermal 
outj^jrowth.  Chemically,  there  is  scarcely  any  difference  between  it 
and  the  hair,  .md  to  all  intents  and  purposes  it  is  composeil  of  hairs 
a}^^lutinatc;d  tosjjether.  Herein  lies  the  fundamental  ilifference  be- 
tween the  sheddini;  of  the  deer's  antlers  and  that  of  the  antelope's 
horns.  The  deer  loses  a  l)on\-  outgrowth  —  a  portion  of  the  ski-leton  ; 
while  the  antelope  parts  with  a  dermal  outi^rowth  —  a  portion  of  the 
inteiriiim-nt. 

When  th(!  anti-lope  sh(.'ds  its  horns,  therefore,  the)'  do  not  drop 
off  close  to  the  skull,  leaving;-  the  head  bare  like  a  deer's  under 
the  same  circumstances,  but  the  sheath  falls  off  from  the  core,  which 
is  now  tippeil  with  a  new  horn,  ami  clothed  elsewlu-re  with  a  thick 
hairv  skin,  which  before  Ions'"  bi-comes  hard  black  horn.  The  atlult 
male  antelope  is  therefore  never  entirel\  without  horns.  i'he 
sheath  is  lost  in  November  or  I  )i'cember  after  the  rutting  season 
is  over. 

Another  remarkable  characteristic  of  the  antelope  is  tin-  absence 
of  the  supplementary  hoofs,  or  "dew-claws,"  which  represent  the 
second  and  fifth  diijrits  of  the  foot.  Tiiese  are  present  in  all  the 
other  Pccora  except  the  jji'iraffes. 

From  the  combination  of  anomalous  characters  found  in  this 
species,  it  has  been  considered  with  irreat  interest  by  naturalists, 
and  a  very  hij^h  authority  has  separated  it  froiu  the  true  antelopes 
and  placed  it  in  a  family  ( .Intilocapridic )  by  itself  thus  makinjf 
the  single  ,<renus  anti  species  { .Intilocapra  Anicricaua  Old)  the 
equivalent  in  zoolo<rical  rank  of  so  important  a  family  as  the  lnn'id(C. 

The  pronir-horn  antelope  stands  nearly  three  feet  hij^h  at  the 
withers,  and  is  from  four  and  one-half  to  five  feet  in  leny^th.  Its 
body  is  short  and  stout,  head  lonsj   and  slim,  neck  rather  short  and 


///<•  .luhiopi'. 


305 


usually  arched,  and  le^rs  sli'iulcr.  Tlic'  vyv  is  viry  \ay\iv  and  set 
hijfh  up  on  till'  head,  inunetliatel)-  heneath  llu  hase  of  the  horn. 
The  antelopi-  is  reddish  yellow  al)ove  and  white  helow.  '\'\\v.  face 
up  to  the  horns,  an  irregularly  oval  patch  at  the  anj.rU'  of  the 
jaw.  and  a  line  ilown  the  hack  of  the  neck  are  Mackish -brown. 
The  sides  anil  lower  portion  of  tin-  head,  several  irrej^nilar  cross- 
bars on  thf  front  of  the  nick,  the  lowe-r  flanks,  a  larye  trianj^ular 
white  patch  on  the  niinp,  and  the  entire  under  parts  and  lej^^s, 
are  white.  The  hoofs  and  horns  are  always  black.  'I'he  latter  vary 
somewhat  in  form.  .Near  tlu;  base  they  are  loni^  oval  in  cross 
section,  tin;  diame-ter  from  b.'forc  i)ackward  beini;'  two  or  three 
times  {greater  than  that  from  side  to  side.  They  rise  from  just 
above  the  i-ye  slightly  forward  and  outward,  and  are  sometimes 
sixteen  inches  lons^^.  though  usualK  lirss  than  twelve.  iht;  shaft  is 
scimeter  shaped,  tin-  tip  ciMvini,^  sharpl\  so  that  it  is  usually  directed 
somewhat  downward,  but  the  continuity  of  tlu;  anterior  outline 
is  broken  b\'  the  "  pron^j,"  which  spriujLjs  from  a  point  about  half 
way  between  the  base  and  tlu;  tip,  as  a  triani,ailar  stub,  with  its 
point  directeil  inward,  forward,  anil  upward.  ilu'  tips  are  usually 
directeil  backward,  or  c^lse  turn  inward  so  as  nearl)  to  meet. 
Occasionally,  a  specimen  is  seen  in  which  one  tip  is  directed  in  and 
one  backward,  and  in  a  pair  of  horns  now  in  my  possession  both  tips 
are  twisted  so  as  to  point  forward  and  downward.  While  the  horns 
usually  rise  str;iiy[ht  from  thi'  head,  only  spreadiuLj  very  slii^htly,  they 
are  sometimes  ilirected  almost  away  from  (^ach  othi-r,  like  the  horns 
of  an  o.\,  and  on  rare  occasions  a  buck  may  be  seen  with  one  horn 
jjrowinjr  down  over  his  face,  in  the  style  of  "the  cow  with  the 
crumpled  horn."  Twice;  I  have  killeil  bucks  with  four  horns,  the  e.xtra 
ones  beint^  three  or  four  inches  Ions;  and  attached  loosely  to  the  skin 
behind  the  normal  horns.  The  female  antt.-lope  is  usually  hornless, 
but  a  certain  proportion  of  thi'  does  have  small  cylindrical  horns,  from 
one  to  three  inches  \ov\^.  and  without  the  pron<r. 

'I'he  hair  of  the  antelopi;  is  peculiar,  beins^  coarse,  s])onjLjy,  and 
brittle,  and  so  loosely  attaclu'd  to  the  skin  that  it  is  easily  pulled  off 
in  handlinir.  Then;  is  also  an  under-coat  of  tine  wool,  which  is 
especially  noticeable  in  spring  when  the  coat  is  being  shed.  This 
species  is  provided  with  a  number  of  j^lands  in  the  skin,  and  these 
exhale  a  strong  and  disagreeable  odor,  which  pervades  the  whole 
20 


i    A  il''l! 


'Ma 


V  ■  1 


3o6 


'/'//('  .hiti'lopc. 


m 


,v; 


skin   and  hair.     l*>om  tliis  oilor  tlu!  antt-lopc   was  formerly  called 
"  ^oat,"  cahrcc,  unil  cal)rit ;   Iml  tlu-s*;  names  arc  ()l)soletc.     IVonjj 
horn  is  its  book  name. 

The  antclopi!  was  formerly  foinul  all  over  the  plains  and  anionj^ 
the  mountains  of  the  west,  wherever  the  country  was  adapti-d  to  it, 
from  latituilc  5,^  N.  south  into  Mexico,  and  from  about  the  meridian 
of  95)  west  lon^itudi;  to  tlie  ['acific  ( )cean.  There  is  no  eviiK-nci- 
to  show  that  it  ever  ranj^ed  east  of  the  Mississippi  Kiver.  .\11 
throiij.;h  the  jrreat  rt^j^'""  indicated  it  was  «)nce  abundant,  anil 
was  e(|ually  at  home  on  the  tlat  prairies  of  the  I'latte  Ki\cr 
bottom,  the  broken  bad  lands  of  I  )akota  and  Montana,  or  amon<.j  the 
rujr^reil  foot-hills,  sagebrush  plateaus,  and  bald  mountain  slopes  of 
tin-  mam  ramj^e.  It  is  essentially  a  ilweller  in  the  open  country  anil 
is  never  found  far  back  in  the  forests.  What  it  reipiires,  above  all 
thinLjs,  is  a  place  from  which  it  can  overlook  all  its  surroundin}.js ; 
for,  althou«jjh  the  antelope's  powers  of  scent  an- vt-ry  keen,  it  depends 
chietly  upon  its  eyi;s  for  warninj,^  of  impeniliny  lianj^cr.  .Still,  it  is 
not  true,  as  has  been  assert(;tl  by  most  writers  on  this  specii-s,  that 
it  has  a  j^reat  terror  of  forests  and  is  never  found  amonjLj  them.  In 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  I  have  freijuently  seen  antelo|)e  feeilinjr  amonjf 
the  timber  in  open  pine  forests,  as  well  as  where  there  was  under- 
^^rowth,  anil  in  North  Park,  Colorado,  where  a  few  years  aj^^o  this 
species  was  to  be  found  in  <(reat  abundance,  I  havi'  seen  them  by 
hundreds  feeding;  in  the  bottom  of  Michij^an  Crei-k  amonj;"  thick 
willows,  which  were  there  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  hij^h.  In  such 
situations  they  may  be  easily  approached.  It  has  been  my  experi- 
ence, however,  that  if  they  are  once  alarmed,  it  is  impossible  to  ilrive 
antelope  into  the  timber.  Durinjj^  the  summer  they  are  fond  of 
feeding  hij^h  up  in  the  mountains  in  the  little  },frassy,  parkdike  valleys 
which  open  into  one  another  and  become  constantly  smaller  toward 
the  hijfher  jj^round.  beinjf  thus  often  nearly  or  ouite  surrounded  by 
thick  forest.  I  have  sometimes,  on  enterinjr  such  a  little  park  by  the 
only  opening  into  it,  come  upon  a  band  of  antelope,  and  seen  them 
rush  across  the  open,  and  then,  as  they  approached  the  timber,  turn 
and  run  around  the  whole  circumference  of  the  meadow,  and  at  lenj^th, 
as  if  in  desperation,  turn  aj^^ain  and  run  toward  and  by  me,  and  out 
of  the  little  openinjif,  so  close  that  I  could  have  thrown  a  rope  over 
any  one  of  the  band. 


Till'  .hitclof>i\ 


307 


'\\\v  riilliiij^  si-ason  ol  tin-  antelope  bej^ins  in  Septenilxr  anil 
lasts  nearly  i<>  tho  eml  ol'  ( )ct()lier.  They  are  not  always  loun«l 
in  pairs  at  this  season,  thoiii^h  usiiall)  only  a  lew  are  seen  to)^ri'tluT, 
anil  thesi-  I'ompanies  are  likely  to  nmsist  of  imliviiUials  ol'  the 
same  sex.  just  liel'ore  an<l  iluriniL;  llie  riittini;  season  the  luiiks 
liiflu  with  I'onsiileralile  enerj^f),  thoiijuh  I  ha\c  never  seen  any- 
ihiiij;  i|iiite  like  the  ilescription  ol  their  hattles  j^riven  hy  Aiulu- 
l)on  anil  Uachman.  When  two  males  meet,  the\  (ome  lomtiier 
heail  on  anil  push  vii^oroiisly,  hut  no  ^^nal  amount  ol  ilama^e  seems 
to  result  from  such  contests  ( )n  the  other  haml,  an  attack  is  olten 
maile  l)y  one  l>uck  on  another  without  an\  warning.  Such  an  assault 
I  onci'  witnesseil  late  in  Septeniher.  i'wo  bucks  were  Ibllowinij 
three  or  I'our  iloes  anil  kills,  ami  walkinj^  ipiite  near  toj^cther,  when 
siiililenly  the  smaller  ol'  the  two  charj^eil  the  other,  striking  him  a 
terrible  blow  in  the  llank  with  his  horns,  ami  almost  knockinj^  him 
ilown.  rile  larj^e  buck  at  once  lowereil  his  heail  anil  ilarteil  at  his 
assailant,  which,  without  \\\\  attem|)t  at  ilel'ense.  took  to  his  heels 
and  ran  like  the  wiiul  lor  at  least  a  mile,  the  other  pursuinjLj  Ibr  hall' 
liie  ilistance.  Moth  then  slowly  relurnecl  to  tin-  neii^hborhooil  of 
the  fi'inales.  ami  alter  a  little  while,  when  the  small  buck  fouml 
anotlu'r  l;ooiI  o|)portunity,  he  repealeil  the  attack,  exactly  in  the 
same  manner,  ami  was  aj^ain  chaseil  awa\.  H)  the  time  that  the 
two  hail  aj^ain  returneil  to  the  iloes,  the  band  hail  passed  over  some 
hi_i;h  bluffs  and  out  of  my  si^ht.  The  larirer  bucks  frequently  chase 
the  smaller  ones  away;  but  this  iloes  little  iL,a)od,  as  the\  inunediatelv 
return  a^ain.  Soon  alter  tin-  close  of  the  ruttintj  season,  a  partial 
migration  takes  place.  ihe  antelope  which,  during;  the  summer, 
have  inhabited  the  hi^jher  mountain  valleys  now  move  down  to  the 
lower  lands,  and  there  is  in  all  localities  more  or  less  shifting;"  about 
at  the  approach  of  severe  weather.  Hurinj^'  the  winter  they  collect 
in  i^real  bands,  sometimes  numbi-rinL;'  several  thousand  individuals. 
.\t  the  approach  of  sprint;,  these  larj^e   herds  break  up  into  small 


companii': 


and 


scatter  o\er  their  summer  i-razin*''  Lrrounds. 


Toward   the    last  of  May.  the  does  are   found  sin!.;ly   upon    the 


prairie. 


The  kills  are  born  in    [une  and  are  two  in  number. 


I 


thi 


)t  at  all  di 


d  to  trust  to  th 


li 


or  a 
s  for 


wi'ek  01   more  tney  are  not  at  all  dispose 

sali.t\.  i)ut  hide  in  the  low  s^rass  or  amonjj  the  sa^e  brush,  and  at 

this  time  can  be  approached  and  caught  in  the  hands  without  diffi- 


3o8 


The  ^liitclopc 


||4| 


I  :li  ; 


culty,  altlioiijrh  ;i  little  later  they  can  run  fast  ami  far.  When  capt- 
ured ti'(,'y  become  tame  at  once  and  are  easily  reared  on  cow's 
milk.  They  are  interesting,  but  rather  inconvenient,  pets;  for  they 
are  so  much  at  home  al.'out  a  house  as  to  he  rather  in  tin;  way.  At 
birth,  the  hair  is  crimped,  almost  curly,  and  the)'  are  brownish-j^ray 
in  color,  with  very  littU;  white  upon  them,  anil  are  chic;ny  remarkabk' 
for  the  excessive  lenj^th  of  their  lei;s,  on  which  they  seem  to  have 
some  difficulty  in  balancint;  tluimsiives.  Their  color  soon  ciianges 
to  that  of  the  ailults,  but  is  ('VtM-ywhcrt?  of  a  paler  cast. 

The  cry  of  the  antelope  is  a  bleat,  shorti:r  than  that  of  a  }^M)at 
and  not  so  sharp;  but  this  soimd  is  scarcely  t:ver  h(!ard  by  the  hunter. 
When  curious  and  somewhat  suspicious  tlu-y  utter  a  sharp  snort, 
pitched  in  a  hij^her  key  than  that  of  a  deer;  and  when  suildenly 
frij^htened,  the  bucks  often  conununicate  the  alarm  to  their  compan- 
ions by  a  sharp  nasal  call,  best  represented  by  the  syllables  boik-bock- 
bock\  rapitlly  repeati^d. 

.'\fter  man,  the  worst  enemy  of  the  antt:lope  is  the  wolf  Thi" 
j^'ray  wolf,  no  doubt,  kills  a  Ljreat  many  ;  but  tht'  coyote  is  tlu;  most 
destructive.  The  latter  captures  thi;  younjj^  fawns  soon  after  birth, 
his  keen  nose  enablinj^  him  to  (U;tect  tlu'm  in  their  hiilinj;-j>laces. 
This  discovered,  he  soon  makes  a  meal  of  the  tender  morsel,  pro- 
vided the  mother  be  not  near  by.  If  she  is  at  hand,  and  the  coyote 
is  .'done,  she  will  luiat  him  off  Most  of  the  antelope;  which  the 
prairie  wolves  secure,  however,  an-  run  down.  Three  or  four 
coyotc;s  will  start  one,  a  single  wolf  pressins^  it  hard  and  forcin<r 
the  pace  as  much  as  possible,  while  the  others  lope  alonj^  on  either 
side  of  the  line  of  llij^ht,  choosini^  the  easiest  j^rounti,  anil  savinj^ 
themselves  as  much  as  |)ossil)le  by  takinj^  short  cuts,  when  the  chase 
circles.  As  soon  as  the  immeiliati"  pursuer  becomes  tireil,  his  place 
is  taken  by  another  which  is  com|)aratively  fresh;  and  so  the  pur- 
suit is  kept  up,  the  wolves  relievinjj^  each  other  from  tinu;  to  time, 
until  the  poor  antelope  is  overtaken,  pulled  down,  and  torn  to  pieces. 
Sometimi's,  howevi'r,  they  I'scapi-  out  of  the  very  jaws  of  their  pur- 
suers, for  I  have  occasionally  killed  individuals  which  had,  several 
days  before,  been  mon;  or  less  torn  about  the  lei^s  and  flanks  by  the 
teeth  of  tin;  savaj^n-  brutes.  The  golden  eagle  kills  many  wounileil 
antelope  and  some  kids,  but  is  sometimi.'s  beaten  off  by  the  latter, 
as  shown   by  an  account  of  a  battle  witnessed  by  my  friend,  Mr.  W. 


laci- 
1)11  r- 

nu', 
lci;s. 

)ur 
Icral 
the 

uUd 

ttcr, 
W. 


'I  lie  Antelope. 


309 


It.   Kciil,  in   ()ct()l)cr,    1SS2,   lu  ar  Coino.   \V'yomin}.r    Territory,   and 
comiminicatcil  to  iIk-  "  I'Orcsl  ami  Stroain."      Ik:  says: 

■• 'I'luirsday,  llio  .'filli  of  this  nioiilh,  I  saw  a  slraii};i'  liatllf  lii-twcuii  two  kid  aiito- 
li)|if  and  an  cajole.  Thi'  antelope,  wlu'n  tirst  seen  hy  myscH"  an<l  Mr.  Carlin,  witl- 
rtnininn  in  our  diu'ttion.  and  ahovc  thcin,  aliout  one  hundred  feet,  was  a  large  golden 
eagle,  wiiit  h  nia<le  a  swoop  down  at  tlie  antelope.  When  the  hird  diil  this,  one  of  the 
kids  stopped,  turned  round  and  reared  on  its  hind  legs  and  iieal  the  air  with  its  lore- 
Icet,  and  the  bird  of  prey  rose  high  in  air,  only  to  make  another  d.ish,  with  the  same 
result.  'This  was  re|)eated  at  least  a  do/.en  limes,  when  tlu'  I'agle,  .seeming  to  lie< ome 
tireil,  llew  away  and  settled  himself  on  a  rock,  and  the  antelope  trotted  away  to  join 
a  large  hand  i>n  a  near  hillside." 

Civiiizcil  man  has  proved  hiiiisi-ir  the  aiUi'lo|)i''s  worst  ciu'iny,  and 
in  ihosi;  districts  where  Ininters  are  numerous,  this  species  soon  dis- 
appears. The  traveler  kills  it  lor  food,  the  skin-hunter  for  the  lew 
cents  its  hide  will  hrino,  die  sportsman  for  its  iu^ad,  tlu;  cow-hoy  to 
try  his  si.\-shooler,  and  i;vi'ryl)ody  for  "fun."  Not  one  man  in  a 
hundred  can  resist  the  temptation  to  shoot  at  the  heautilul  and  oi'ace- 
ful  anitnal  whicii  chance  or  its  curiosity  hrini^s  within  ratio*'  of  his 
rille.  That  his  waoon  is  already  loaded  with  meat,  that  he  cannot 
possil)ly  utiiizi'  wiiat  he  kills,  makes  no  diff(;rence  to  him.  lie;  must 
try  to  slaiii;iu<;r  as  loni;  as  tlu-re  is  j^ramc:  in  si^ht. 

To  hecotne  a  successful  antelope  hunter,  it  is  more  necessary  that 
one  should  underst.md  du'  hahitsof  his  <;ame  than  that  he  should  he 
a  j^ood  shot.  l)urino  the  middle  of  the  day,  the  antelope  are  usually 
lyiiii^  down  iti  pi  ices  wliere  they  can  have  a  wide  outlook,  and  they 
are  then  most  difficult  to  approach,  i'or  these;  restino -places,  they 
select  either  a  knoll  in  tin;  midst  of  a  hroad  valley  or  else  the  lop  of  a 
hlufl,  or,  |)erhaps,  the  middle  slo|)e  ol  a  wide,  smooth  hill-side,  so  that 
their  oaze  can  cover  all  the  country  ahout  thetu.  Tin;  hesl  time  for 
lumtino  them  is  in  the  mornino-  or  evi-nino',  when  they  are  scattereil 
ahotit  on  the  hill-sides  and  in  the  little  \alleys,  feedini^.  At  such  times 
they  are  tnost  easily  approached,  and  the  himtt-r  lakes  advantao*-  of 
the  ine<|ualities  of  the  jrrouml  to  discover  their  presence  in  lime  to  suc- 
cessfu"y  stalk  them.  TIk;  essential  |)oint  is  that  he  should  see  the 
antelop*'  hefore  they  descry  him,  lor  il  their  suspicions  are  once; 
aroused,  it  is  almost  hopel(;ss  to  att(;mpt  to  o(t  withiti  shot  of  them. 
As  soon  as  one  of  thesi;  wary  creatures  sees  an  ohject  ahout  which 
he  fc(;ls  douhtful,  lu;  takc;s  a  long,  patient  stare;  at  il,  and  unless  sat- 
30A 


I     \\ 


1 


"■.iieii 


3IO 


The  Antelope 


'j^ 


isfied  that  it  is  something  usual  and  harmless,  runs  to  the  top  of 
the  nearest  hill,  and  from  that  point  again  scrutinizes  it.  If  now  the 
object  passes  out  of  sight  behind  any  cover,  the  antelope  at  once 
shifts  his  position  to  the  top  of  another  hill.  But  in  localities  where 
they  have  been  much  hunted,  the  sight  of  a  mounted  man,  even  at  a 
great  distance,  is  enough  to  set  the  antelope  in  motion,  and  they  run 
off  at  once  without  waiting  to  inspect  him.  The  sight  of  one  running 
band  alarms  all  those  in  the  neighborhood,  and  they  all  move  off  to 
points  from  which  they  can  obtain  a  good  outlook. 

In  hunting  large  game,  of  whatever  kind,  caution  and  patience 
are  prime  requisites  for  success ;  and  in  the  pursuit  of  no  species  are 
these  more  necessary  than  with  the  antelope.  It  is  so  constantly  on 
the  alert,  and  its  eyesight  is  so  keen,  that  all  the  hunter's  care  is 
needed  to  enable  him  to  beat  it  with  its  own  weapons  and  on  its  own 
ground.  When  hunting  antelope,  therefore,  it  is  important  to  go 
slowly,  and  to  look  over  the  ground  in  front  of  you  very  carefull)' 
before  showing  yourself  When  you  approach  the  crest  of  a  hill,  do 
not  ride  your  horse  quite  up  to  the  top  of  it,  but  stop  him  before 
reaching  the  summit,  dismount,  and  drop  the  lariat;  or,  if  he  is 
broken  in  the  usual  plains  fashion,  throw  the  bridle-rein  over  his 
head,  and  walk  carefully  to  the  top.  As  you  approach  it,  move 
slowly.  Do  not  raise  your  head  and  shoulders  at  once  to  look  over 
the  ridge,  for  there  may  be  a  band  of  antelope  within  a  few  yards  of 
you.  Take  off  your  hat,  for  its  crown  is  several  inches  above  your 
eyes,  and  can  therefore  be  seen  before  you  yourself  can  see.  Raise 
your  head  very  gradually,  and  as  it  rises  keep  the  eyes  moving 
from  side  to  side,  so  as  to  take  in  all  the  ground  on  either  side  of, 
and  beyond,  as  well  as  immediately  in  front  of  you.  If  you  should 
see  the  game,  do  not  duck  down  your  head  at  once,  unless  you  are 
positive  that  the  animals  have  not  observed  you,  but  lower  it  with 
the  same  slow  motion.  A  sudden  movement  is  very  likel)-  to 
attract  attention,  while  a  slow  one  will  be  almost  sure  to  escape 
notice.  If  your  game  is  within  range,  you  will  of  course  take  your 
shot  as  soon  as  you  please,  but  it  may  be  at  some  distance,  and 
in  such  a  situation  that  by  taking  advantage  of  some  ravine,  or  hill, 
or  depression  in  the  prairie,  you  can  creep  up  close  enough  to  shoot. 
To  do  this  you  may  have  to  make  a  long  detour  before  reaching  the 
desired  point.    In  such  a  ca.se,  notice  carefully  the  lay  of  the  land  and 


The  Antelope. 


3" 


the  position  of  the  game,  for  from  a  different  point  of  view  the  bluffs 
and  landmarks  may  look  so  differently  that  you  may  have  to  look  a 
long  time  for  the  animals,  and  while  doin'g  so  may  expose  yourself  to 
their  view.  Remember  to  watch  the  wind,  for  the  antelope's  nose  is  a 
good  one  and  will  tell  him  of  your  presence  if  you  come  between  him 
and  the  breeze.  Perhaps  the  band  may  be  at  a  distance,  and  there 
may  appear  no  way  of  approaching  it.  In  this  case,  it  will  be  worth 
your  while  to  sit  down  and  wait  a  little,  to  see  if  they  will  not  feed 
up  nearer  to  you,  and  so  give  you  a  shot.  Do  not  be  too  anxious 
to  know  just  what  they  are  doing.  Every  time  you  raise  your  head 
above  the  bluff,  some  one  of  the  animals  will  be  likely  to  see  it,  and, 
unless  they  are  frightened  by  you,  they  are  not  likely  to  make  any 
sudden  movement.  Do  not  be  too  impatient  to  get  your  shot. 
Deliberation  will  serve  you  well.  When  you  shoot,  aim  close  behind 
the  fore  shoulder  and  just  abt)ut  where  the  white  and  the  red  meet  ; 
for  the  antelope's  heart  lies  low,  and,  if  you  hold  true,  you  will  have 
meat  in  camp  that  night. 

In  hunting  antelope,  it  is  best  always  to  travel  upon  the  higher 
ground,  since  the  game  is  much  less  likely  to  see  an  object  above 
than  below  or  on  the  same  level  with  it.  Keep  to  the  ridges,  there- 
fore, and  as  you  surmount  each  one,  scan  all  the  ground  with  care 
before  you  show  yourself  There  may  be  an  antelope  lying  tlown 
behind  some  little  rise  of  gnnmd  very  near  you  ;  or  perhaps  a  red 
back  or  the  black  tips  of  a  pair  of  horns  may  be  just  visible  over  the 
edge  of  some  ravine,  and  may  at  first  escape  your  eye,  if  you  are  in 
a  hurry. 

Although,  where  antelope  have  been  much  hunted,  the  sight  of  a 
man,  even  if  a  long  way  off,  will  cause  them  to  run,  there  are  other 
localities  uliere  they  are  so  tame  as  to  permit  one  to  ride  within 
three  or  four  hundred  yards  without  manifesting  much  uneasiness. 
In  such  cases,  the  animals  are  curious  rather  than  timid,  and  will 
sometimes  run  toward  the  hunter;  anil  if  he  throws  himself  flat  on 
the  ground,  they  may  approach  within  one  hundred  yards,  or  even 
nearer.  This  only  takes  jilace  when  tiiey  have  been  but  little  hunted. 
In  a  l)uffalo  country,  or  where  there  are  cattle,  they  are  sonnttimes 
very  unsuspicious.  The  old  bucks  ordinarily  manifest  more  curios- 
ity than  the  does,  but  with  it  is  mingled  an  astonishing  amount 
of    shrewdness,    and    many    instances    of   their    cunning    might    be 


115!,' 


i'i 


f 


'>i  II 


fir 


312 


7Vii'  Antelope. 


related.  The  yearling  bucks  are  possessed  of  this  same  spirit  of 
investigation,  but  are  wholly  without  the  wisdom  of  their  seniors, 
and  thus  often  fall  an  easy  prey  to  the  hunter,  frequently  walking  up 
to  within  shooting  distance,  and  standing  there  stamping  and  snort- 
ing, until  a  ritle-ball  satisfies  their  curiosity. 

Antelope  are  often  hunt'  1  with  greyhounds,  and  this  is  a  most 
noble  sport.  To  practice  il  successfully,  dogs  of  imusual  power 
and  endurance  are  required,  as  well  as  horses  of  great  speed,  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  chase  is  lost  unless  the  hunter  keeps  the  game  in 
view.  When  I  have  seen  them  used,  the  Scotch  staghounds  have 
not  proved  fleet  enough  to  overtake  the  antelope,  and  the  most 
successful   dogs  have  been   large,  smooth  greyhounds. 

Within  the  past  ten  years,  the  antelope  have  been  exterminated 
in  many  localities  where  they  were  once  abundant.  The  West  is 
now  filling  up  more  rapiiUy  than  ever  before,  and  with  the  advance 
of  the  settlements  comes,  in  one  district  after  another,  the  extinction 
of  the  antelope.  .Already  along  the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific  Rail- 
road they  have  been  driven  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  borders 
of  Wyoming  Territory  :  and,  as  the  farmer  breaks  up  the  prairie, 
the  stockman  scatters  his  cattle,  and  the  shepherd  leads  his  flocks 
into  regions  hitherto  unoccupied,  the  antelope  must  retreat  before 
their  advance,  and  seek  for  himself  some  feeding-ground  where 
man  has  not  yet  penetrated.  Such  a  feeding-ground  he  will  seek  in 
vain.  The  shrill  whistle  of  the  locomotive,  quivering  over  the  wide 
prairie  or  waking  the  echoes  of  the  once  silent  mountain  valley.s, 
has  sounded    the   death-knell  of   large   game    in    the  West. 


fW' 


A   MLSK-OX    HUNT 


iU-  FRKDKRICK:  St'IIWAIKA. 


I^OR  about  twelve  months,  during  1879  and  'So,  I  was  traveling 
~i  hy  sledge  in  the  arctic  regions  with  a  party  of  twenty  persons. 
During  that  time,  we  depended  for  our  food,  as  well  as  for  that 
of  our  forty-two  dogs,  upon  the  game  of  the  country,  twice  traversetl 
by  us,  stretching  from  the  waters  of  North  Hudson's  Hay  to  tlie 
Arctic  Ocean.  The  design  of  subsisting  for  so  long  a  time  upon  the 
game  of  those  bleak,  dreary  regions  entailed  a  great  variety  of  hunt- 
ing adventures.  And  to  describe  one  of  the  incidents  of  a  hunt  after 
musk-o.xen,  or  musk-sheep  as  they  are  sometimes  called,  is  the  object 
of  this  article. 

Our  route  led  us  from  the  northernmost  point  of  Hudson's  Hay 
directly  to  the  nearest  available  point  on  Hack's  Great  I'ish  River, 
which  empties  into  the  Arctic  Ocean  just  south  of  the  large  island 
known  as  King  William's  Land,  on  which  island  and  adjacent  main- 
land Sir  John  Franklin's  |)arty  of  over  a  hundred  Hritish  seamen 
perished  in  1848-49,  and  whose  sad  fate  it  was  the  object  of  this 
expedition,  as  far  as  possible,  to  determine.  This  route  lay  directly 
across  countrv.  The  bulk  of  authorities  on  arctic  sledsrintr,  both, 
white  and  native,  bore  against  long  overland  sledge  journeys,  an 
opinion  to  which  they  often  gave  practical  illustration  by  unneces- 
sary detours  to  follow  salt-water  ice  or  sinuous  water-courses.  Our 
course,  therefore,  had  never  been  traveled  by  either  white  men  or 
natives,  and  the  latter,  who  formed  an  important  element  of  the 
expedition,  atlvised  against  it.  The  Indians  of  the  north,  as  I  found 
them,  are  loath  to  enter  a  totally  unknown  country.  They  knew 
almost  nothing  of  the  game  of  the  region,  so  thev  said,  but  believed 


■■    i 


r 


3H 


-/  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


'\ 


that  imiskoxon  would  be  found,  and  if  they  proved  to  be  plentiful 
they  were  willing  to  undertake  the  journey.  Accordinijly,  a  prelim- 
inary reconnaissance  as  far  as  Wager  River  was  made  by  me  in 
January,  1879,  anil  although  no  musk-oxen  were  actually  seen,  we 
found  abundant  traces  of  them.  These  facts  overcame  the  objections 
of  the  natives,  who  now  readily  assented  to  accompany  us.  Our 
party  was  well  armed  with  the  finest  breech-loaders  and  magazine 
guns,  and  carried  an  amide  supply  of  fixed  ammunition.  The  hunt- 
ing force  of  the  party  consisted  of  four  full-grown  Kskimo  men,  and 
three  Eskimo  boys,  ranging  from  twelve  to  eighteen,  and  the  four 
white  men. 

We  left  North  Hudson's  Hay  on  the  first  day  of  April,  1879,  and, 
by  the  8th  of  the  month,  were,  according  to  our  natives,  in  what 
they  termed  the  musk-ox  country,  the  locality  in  which  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  hunt  these  huge  monsters  during  winter  trips 
from  the  sea-coast,  where  the  natives  live  the  greater  part  of  the 
year.  Hut  die  musk-cattle  of  the  Arctic  are  so  sparsel\-  distributed 
that  they  form  only  a  small  part  of  the  game  necessary  to  furnish 
these  northern  nomads  with  their  yearly  supplies,  and  they  place 
very  little  reliance  upon  them.  Ihi;  annual  musk-ox  hunt,  however, 
is  looked  forward  to  with  much  interest,  and  is  long  in  advance  the 
burden  of  their  conversation,  while  housed  in  their  little  snow  huts. 
It  is  in  the  sport  and  excitement  of  the  chase  that  tln-y  find  the 
greatest  reward,  and  not  in  the  meat  secured,  nor  in  the-  half-worth- 
less  robes  that  are  thus  obtained.  I  hese  robes  are  almost  of  no 
value  to  the  1  unless  they  be  near  some  trading  station  or  whale- 
ships  wintering  in  the  ice.  To  us,  however,  their  huge  carcasses 
were,  as  food  for  our  three  teams  of  dogs,  of  great  importance  com- 
pared with  that  of  the  reindeer  or  any  other  game  that  we  would  be 
likely  to  fall   in  with. 

On  April  9th,  we  came  upon  a  large  trail  of  musk-cattle.  Tlu; 
sign  was  tolerably  old,  some  six  or  seven  days  at  least ;  Init  one  of 
the  peculiarities  of  the  animals  is  that  they  will  travel  very  slowly 
when  untlisturbed  and  in  good  grazing  country,  and  this  same  herd, 
so  the  Eskimo  believed,  was  not  far  oft".  They  tried  to  persuade  me 
with  all  the  vehemence  of  savage  logic  to  remain  a  day  or  two  in  the 
vicinity  and  hunt  them,  but  the  larder  was  still  too  full  to  warrant 
••\y  such  delay,  and  we  pushed  on. 


li..-; 


imi 


!    i 


ly 


Ihe 
Int 


ill 

!l 

11  III 

'^■ 


.m 


i 


iV  a- 


1  >i^'^ 


\i 


M't 


U 


Tf 


,|lii  ! 


in.  ' 


M 


^  ::  .i 


IW 


•:t  :      I 


i    I 


M' 


I  if 


^^1;  s 


fl 

fi 

,    iii 

J 

'    w 

'   (5 

"         1 

i"   s 

i^^    I 

\           * 

^1  p 

if  i' 

1 

lim 

7  Musk  Ox  Hunt. 


3«7 


A^ain,  on  the  13th,  we  came  upon  the  fresh  trail  of  a  larire  herd 
of  these  cattle,  anil  I  hatl  the  hardest  work  iniatfinable  persuailing 
these  natives  to  pass  on  without  followin<f  it  up.  The  Eskimos  have 
far  more  excitability  in  the  presence  of  game  or  its  sign  than  any 
other  race  of  people  1  have  encountered,  not  even  excepting  the 
various  Indian  tribes  of  our  great  western  plains. 

Before  we  had  fairly  gone  into  camp,  on  the  22d, — and  by  going 
into  camp  on  an  arctic  sledge  journey  is  meant  the  building  of  pecul- 
iarily  constructed  domes  of  snow,  or  snow-houses,  the  unharnessing 
of  the  dogs,  et  cetera, — a  most  furious  gale  of  wind  arose,  which 
raged  so  terribly  for  five  days  that  even  llie  i.ntives  found  it  prudent 
not  to  stay  out  of  the  snow-huts  for  any  considerable  time  ;  and  this 
enforced  idleness  reduced  our  commissary  to  an  alarming  minimum. 
We  managed,  however,  to  get  away  by  the  28th,  the  storm  'even  then 
only  slightly  abating;  and,  after  traveling  nineteen  miles  in  a  north- 
north-west  direction,  we  went  into  camp,  the  weather  somewhat 
better,  but  the  larder  in  a  reduced  condition.  Shortly  after  camping, 
Ik-quee-sik,  my  Netschilluk  Eskimo  guide,  who  had  absented  him- 
self while  the  ijiioos,  or  snow-houses,  were  being  built,  came  running 
excitedly  into  the  village  from  a  distant  high  hill,  the  perspiration  in 
huge  drops  streaming  down  his  brown  and  dirty  face,  and  with  my 
army  signal  telescope,  full  drawn,  under  one  arm.  While  gasping 
for  breath,  he  reported  that  he  had  seen  a  herd  of  eight  or  ten  musk- 
oxen  about  four  or  five  miles  to  the  northward,  slowlv  ^razinir  alone 
to  the  west,  and  evidently  unaware  of  danger.  Everything  was  put 
aside,  and  every  Eskimo,  man,  woman  and  child,  was  soon  at  the  top 
of  a  high  hill  near  by,  and  a  dozen  dirty  and  eager  natives  were 
clamoring  to  look  through  the  telescope.  We  were  not  long  in  coming 
to  the  decision  that  the  next  day  should  be  devoted  to  securing  as 
many  as  possible  of  the  long-haired  monsters,  Ik-quee-sik's  discovery 
having  been  made  too  late  to  risk  an  attack  so  near  night-fall. 

Our  dogs,  that  had  been  loosened  from  their  harnesses,  were  now 
secured  to  the  overturned  sledges  and  to  other  heavy  materials,  to 
prevent  their  scampering  after  the  game  should  they  scent  them  in 
the  night,  as  their  ravenous  appetites  would  undoubtedly  prompt 
them  to  do ;  while  around  each  animal's  nose  was  closely  wound  a 
muzzle  of  seal  or  walrus  line  thongs,  to  prevent  the  usual  concert  of 
prolonged  howls. 


3i8 


A  Musk -Ox  Hit  lit. 


'.<  '.i,* 


m 


The  followinj^  morninjf,  a  heavy  driftiii}^  fog  threatened  to  spoil 
our  sport  and  lose  us  our  coveted  meat,  but  we  managed  to  get  away 
soon  after  eight  o'clock,   having  a  party  of  eleven  rifles,  with  two 
Eskimo  women,  two  light  sledges,  and  all  the  dogs.     At  that  hour 
the  great  thick  clouds  seemed  to  be  lifting,  but  shortly  after  starting 
the  fog  settled  down  upon  us  again.     After  some  two  or  three  hours 
of  wandering  around  in  the  drifting  mist,  guiding  our  movements  as 
much  as  possible  by  the  direction  t)f  the  wind,  which  we  had  pre- 
viously determined,  we  came  plump  upon  the  trail,  apparently  not 
over  ten  minutes  old,  of  some  six  or  seven  of  the  animals.     Great 
fears  were  entertained  by  the  experienced  hunters  that  the  musk- 
oxen  had  heard  our  approach,  and  were  now  probably  "  doing  their 
level  best "  to  escape.     The  sledges  were  immediately  stop|)ed,  and 
the  dogs  rapiilly  unhitched  from  them,  from  one  to  three  or  four  being 
given  to  each  of  the  eleven  men  and  boys,  white  or  native,  that  were 
present,  who,  taking  their  harnesses  in  their  left  hands  or  tying  them 
in  slip-nooses  around  their  waists,   started  without  delay  upon  the 
trail,  leaving  the  two  sledges  and  a  few  of  the  poorer  dogs  in  charge 
of  the  Innuit  women,  who  had  come  along  for  that  purpose,  and  who 
would  follow  on  the  trail  with  the  empty  sledges  as  soon  as  firing 
was  heard.      The  dogs,  many  of  them  old  musk-ox  hunters,  and  with 
appetites  doubly  sharpened  by  hard  work  and  a  constantly  diminish- 
ing ration,  tugged  like  mail  at  their  seal-skin  harness  lines,  as  they 
half  buried  their  eager  noses  in  the  tumbled  snow  of  the  trail,  and 
hurried  their  attached  human  being  along  at  a  flying  rate  that  threat- 
ened a  broken  limb  or  neck  at  each  of  the  rough  gorges  and  jutting 
precipices  of  the  broken,  stony  hill-land  where  the  exciting  chase 
was  going  on.     The  rapidity  with  which  an  agile  native  hunter  can 
run  when  thus  attached  to  two  or  three  excited  dogs  is  astonishing. 
Whenever  a  steep  valley  was  encountered,  the  l-lskimos  would  slide 
down  on  their  feet,  in  a  sitting  posture,  throwing  the  loose  snow  to 
their  sides  like  escaping  steam  from  a  hissing  locomotive,  until  the 
bottom  was   reached,  when,   quick   as   thought,    they  would    throw 
themselves  at  full  length  upon  the  snow,  and  the  wild,  excited  brutes 
would  drag  them  up  the  other  side,  where,  regaining  their  feet,  they 
would  run  on  at  a  constantly  accelerating  gait,   their  guns  in  the 
meantime  being  held  in  the  right  hand  or  tightly  lashed  upon   the 
back. 


imB..& 


A,:iilii 


I  1 


^      '      ' 


HK.\I>    OK    MUSK- COW. 
DRAWN     HV    JAMKS    C.    HKARI). 


UK^ 


i'S- 


: 


'V- 


p  m 


!  i 


ii, 


1  v^ 
if 


, 


I'! 


II 


^. 


/  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


321 


W'c  had  liarclly  <^o\\v.  a  mili;  in  this  harum-scarum  chase  iKiforc  it 
hccamt"  cviilcnt  that  th»:  imisk-oxt-n  were  l)iit  a  short  distance  ahead, 
on  the  keen  run,  and  the  foremost  hunters  Ijej^^an  looseninjf  tlieir 
do^s  to  hrinj;  the  oxen  to  bay  as  soon  as  pos  ihU' ;  ami  then,  for  the 
first  time,  thesi;  intellij^ent  creatures  j^ave  tonj,'ue  in  deep,  lon^r  hay- 
inj^,  as  they  sliot  forward  like  arrows  and  disap|)eared  over  the 
cn-sts  of  the  hills,  amidst  a  pi  rfect  bewilderment  of  flyinj^f  snow  anil 
Ihittcrinif  harness  traces.  The  discord  of  shouts  and  h()wlin,i,fs  lokl  us 
plainl)  that  some  of  the  animals  had  been  broui^ht  to  bay  not  far  dis- 
tant, anil  we  soon  heard  a  rapid  series  of  sharp  reports  from  the 
breech-loaders  and  majrazine  ^uns  of  the  advanced  hunters.  We 
white  men  arrived  just  in  tinu'  to  see  the  final  strui^s^le.  The  oxen 
presented  a  most  formidable-lookins^f  appearance,  with  their  rumps 
firmly  wedj^ed  to^i.-ther,  a  complete  circle  of  swayinj^-  horns  presented 
to  the  front,  with  ,ijreat  blood-shot  exeballs  j^darinjf  like  red-hot  shot 
amidst  the  escapini^  steam  from  their  pantinif  nostrils,  and  pawing 
and  plun^injjf  at  the  circle  of  furious  do-^s  that  encompassed  them. 
The  rapiil  blazinjjf  of  ma.!:^azine  i^ims  ris^ht  in  their  face's  —  so  close, 
oftiMi,  as  to  burn  their  lonj;,  shai^ify  hair — added  to  the  striking  scene. 
Woe  to  the  overzealous  doj^j  that  was  unlucky  iMiouj^h  to  j^et  his 
hiirnirss-line  under  the  hoofs  of  a  charL(ing  and  infuriated  musk-ox; 
for  they  will  follow  up  a  leash  alon_s^  the  yround  with  a  rapiiiit)-  and 
certainty  that  would  do  credit  to  a  tis^ht-rope  performer,  and  either 
paw  the  poor  creature  to  death  or  fling  him  high  in  the  air  with 
their  horns. 

Although  we  tired  and  panting  white  men  rested  where  the  first 
victims  fell,  Too-lo6-ah,  my  best  hunter, — an  agile,  wiry  young 
Iwillik  Eskimo  of  about  twenty-six,  with  the  pluck  and  endurance  of 
a  blooded  horse, — and  half  the  dogs,  pressed  onward  after  the  scat- 
tered remnants  of  the  herd,  and  succeeded  in  killing  two  more  after 
a  hard  run  for  three  miles.  The  last  one  he  would  probably  not 
have  overtaken  if  the  swiftest  dog,  Parseneuk,  had  not  chased  him  to 
the  edge  of  a  steep  precipice.  Here  a  second's  hesitation  gave  the  dog 
a  chance  to  fasten  on  the  ox's  heels,  and  the  next  moment  Parseneuk 
was  making  an  involuntary  aerial  ascent,  which  was  hardly  finished 
before  Too-lo6-ah  had  put  three  shots  from  his  Winchester  carbine  into 
the  brute's  neck  and  head,  whereupon  the  two  animals  came  to  earth 
together,  —  Parseneuk  on  the  soft  snow  at  the  bottom  of  the  twenty- 
21 


M 


VWi  f 


m;. 


I:  'I 


w. 


i 


'I  < 


I 


I 


s 


'■1 


pi 


\\ 

!  !     ■ 

1  ^^' 

i 

i     ' 

I  li 


322 


^  Mush -Ox  limit. 


I'AKSKNEl'K    IN    A    TIOIIT    IM.ACE. 


foot  precipice,  fortunately  unhurt.  ParseneuK.  .  ■  -  a  trim-built  animal 
that  I  had  secured  from  the  Kinnepetoo  I  skinio,  who  inhabit  tlie 
shores  of  Chesterfield  Inlet,  being  one  of  the  very  few  tribes  of  the 
great  Eskimo  family,  from  the  Straits  of  Helle  Isle  to  those  of 
Behring  Sea,  who  live  away  from  the  sea-coasts.  They  subsist 
principally  upon  the  flesh  of  the  reindeer,  and  their  dogs  are 
adepts  in  hunting  these  fleet  animals,  Parseneuk  being  particularly 
swift  and  intelligent  as  a  hunter.  He  had  been  the  favorite  in 
the  Kinnepetoo  family  from  whom  he  was  purchased,  and  1  had 
to  appease  several  of  them  with  presents,  as  indirect  damages  to 
their  affections.  He  had  a  beautiful  head,  with  sleek  muzzle  and 
fox-like  nose,  while  his  pointed  ears  peered  cunningly  forth  in 
strange  contrast  with  tht;  many  other  dogs  that  I  have  met,  whose 
broken  and  mutilated  ears  (usually  restored  in  illustrations  of  arctic 
scenes)  showed  plainly  the  fights  and  quarrels  in  w'hich  they  had 
figured.     Parseneuk,  as  a  favorite,   had  been  raised  and  fed  in  the 


■: 


A  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


323 


igioo,  under  the  fostering  protection  of  the  old  squaw,  and  being 
saved  the  necessity  of  combating  for  his  daily  bread,  thus  pre- 
served his  ears. 

The  chase  finished,  the  half-famished  dogs  received  all  they  could 
eat, — their  first  full  feast  in  over  three  weeks, — and  after  loading 
the  two  sledges  with  the  remaining  meat  and  a  few  of  the  finer 
robes  as  mementos  and  trophies,  we  returned  to  our  morning's 
camp,  a  distance  of  iwiz  or  six  miles,  which  we  traveled  slowly 
enough,  our  over-fed  dogs  hardly  noticing  the  most  vigorous  appli- 
cations of  the  well  applied  whip. 

i'he  l^skimos  with  whom  1  was  i)rought  in  contact  never  hunt  the 
musk-o.xen  without  a  plentiful  supply  of  well-trained  dogs,  for  with 
their  help  the  hunters  are  almost  certain  of  securing  the  whole  herd, 
unless  the  animals  are  apjjriseil  of  the  approach,  as  they  were  in  our 
encounter  with  them.  When  the  flying  herd  has  been  brought  to 
bay  in  their  circle  of  defense  by  the  dogs,  the  liskimo  hunters 
approach  within  five  or  six  feet  and  make  sure  of  every  shot  that 
is  fired,  as  a  wounded  animal  is  somewhat  dangerous  and  extremely 
liable  to  stampede  the  herd.  A  band  of  these  brutes,  when  once 
stampeded,  are  much  harder  to  bring  to  bay  the  second  tinu.' ;  l)ut  it 
may  be  well  to  mention  that,  if  the  hunt  is  properly  managed,  such 
stampedes  are  extremely  rare.  When  the  circle  of  cattle  is  first 
approached,  the  hunters  take  care  to  dispatch  first  the  active  and 
aggressive  bulls,  conformably  to  a  general  hunting  maxim  followed 
in  all  parts  of  the  world.  As  their  members  fall,  one  at  a  time,  the 
musk-oxen  persist  in  their  singular  mode  of  defense,  presenting  their 
ugly-looking  horns  toward  as  many  points  of  the  compass  as  their 
remaining  numbers  will  allow.  When  but  two  only  are  left,  these, 
with  rumps  together,  will  continue  the  unequal  battle,  and  even  the 
last  "forlorn  hope  "  will  back  up  against  the  largest  ])ile  of  his  dead 
comrades,  or  against  a  large  rock  or  snow-bank,  anil  ilefy  his 
pursuers,  dogs  and  hunters,  until  his  death.  While  the  calves 
are  too  young  and  feeble  to  take  their  places  in  ranks,  which,  in 
general,  is  about  the  first  eight  or  nine  months  of  their  existence, 
they  occu|)y  the  interior  space  formed  by  the  defensive  circle; 
but  when  their  elders  have  perished  in  their  defense,  with  an 
instinct  born  of  the  species  they  will  form  in  the  same  order  and 
show  fight. 


in 


»  I  ! 


!i§;; 


:i 


(ilJi 


.1  r 


I 


ilH 


■i  Ml 


UJ] 


1^ 


324 


A  Miisk-Ox  Hunt. 


OS    THE    TRAIL. 

The  calves  arc  born  about  the  month  of  May,  in  this  portion  of 
the  country,  and  have  the  same  dirty-])ro\vn,  awkward,  uj^ly-lookinir 
appearance  as  the  buffalo  calves  of  the  plains.  'I'hey  can  be  readily 
captured  alive  by  the  Eskimo  doi;s,  if  the  hunters  are  near  enough  to 
prevent  their  being  immediately  killed  by  diese  ravenous  animals;  but 
in  these  inhospitable  regions,  it  is  impossible  to  furnish  them  with 
proper  nourishment  to  sustain  life  until  they  can  be  transferred  to 
a  vessel,  which,  moreover,  can  only  escape  from  here  during  the 
autumn  months ;  consequently,  there  are  no  cases  on  record,  I 
believe,  where  these  most  curious  animals  have  been  exhibited  in  the 


,1  * 


A  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


325 


the 


temperate  zones.    The  natives  told  me  they  had  kept  calves  alive  for 
a  few  days,  but  they  sank  so  rapidly  they  killed  them  for  food. 

Before  the  Eskimo  hunters  were  provided  with  the  fire-arms  of 
civilization,  procured  in  trade  with  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  or 
American  whale-ships,  they  used  the  bow  and  arrow  or  the  lance, 
dashing  fearlessly  past  the  brutes  as  they  buried  the  sharpened  bone 
lance-head  deep  in  some  vital  part.  In  the  olden  times,  one  of  their 
tests  of  manly  courage  was  for  the  hunter  to  pass  within  the  circle 
of  animals  and  return,  backward  and  forward,  killing  one  of  the  oxen 
at  each  passage.  Of  such  feats,  the  old  gray-haired  men  of  the  tribes 
still  boast. 

One  old  Iwillik  Innuit — so  I  was  told  by  his  tribe,  and  they  are 
not  given  to  vain  boasting, — while  traveling  with  dogs  and  sledge 
from  one  village  to  another,  during  his  younger  days,  came  suddenly 
and  unexpectedly  upon  a  couple  of  musk-oxen  that  had  strayed  far 
from  their  usual  haunts.  Unhitching  his  dogs  from  the  sledge;  he 
soon  brought  the  oxen  to  bay.  His  only  weapon  was  a  "snow- 
knife,"  a  kind  of  long-bladed  butcher-knife  which  they  use  to  cut 
the  blocks  of  snow  in  constructing  heir  houses  of  that  material. 
Nothing  daunted,  however,  he  courageously  attacked  them,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  had  secured  both. 

The  danger  from  these  formidable  and  ferocious-looking  brutes 
is  undoubtedly  more  apparent  than  real,  judging  from  the  few  acci- 
dents that  occur.  The  dogs  are  frequently  killed  by  being  tossed  in 
the  air  or  pawed  to  death  as  already  described.  The  musk-bulls 
are  prevented  from  following  up  a  dog's  trailing  harness-line  by 
attaching  a  toggle  noose  where  the  trace  joins  the  harness  at  the 
root  of  the  dog's  tail  when  the  traces  are  separated  from  the  dogs 
before  they  are  slipped  for  the  chase  ;  also,  a  sure  way  is  to  fold  the 
trace  into  a  "  bundle  noose  "  until  it  rests  on  the  dog's  back.  The 
trained  Eskimo  dog  never  barks  in  the  presence  of  game  until  lib- 
erated from  his  master's  hands. 

The  musk-ox  of  the  Arctic  is  only  about  two-thirds  the  size  of 
the  bison,  or  American  buffalo,  but  in  appearance  he  is  nearly  as 
large,  owing  to  his  immense  heavy  coat  of  long  hair  that  covers  him 
down  below  the  knees,  as  if  he  were  carrying  a  load  of  black  brush. 
As  his  generic  name  (Ovibos  moscliatus)  imports,  he  seems  to  form 
a  connection  between  the  ox  and  the  sheep.  His  peculiar  covering 
21A 


'  <  ii 


t 
I 
I 


I'l  i\ 


m 
1 


W 


th 


11 


ii 

i 


326 


A  Mush -Ox  Hunt. 


m 


AT    BAY. 


makes  him  look  like  a  luiyc  ram,  to  which  his  horns  add  much  of 
similarity.  In  fact,  this  covering  partakes  of  tiie  character  of  both 
wool  and  hair.  First,  there  is  a  dense  coat  of  blackish-brown  hair 
like  that  on  the  hump,  shoulders,  and  fore-legs  of  the  buffalo,  which 
extends  over  the  whole  body  and  is,  I  believe,  never  shed.  Helow 
this  there  is  an  undercoating  of  soft,  light  brown  wool,  which  is  shed 
annually,  and  which  is  invisible  through  the  outer  coat,  unless  parted 
by  the  hands.  This  seems  to  be  a  true  wool  and  of  the  finest 
texture.  A  Mr.  Pennant,  an  PLnglish  gentleman,  gives  an  instance 
of  a  man  of  his,  by  the  name  of  Jeremj-,  having  woven  from  this 
inner  fleece  of  the  musk-ox  a  pair  of  stockings  which  were  as  fine  as 
any  of  the  best  silk  stockings. 

During  the  summer  months,  just  after  this  fleece  is  shed,  it  is 
still  found,  matted  into  the  long  black  hair,  and  is  only  prevented 
from  falling  to  the  ground  by  this  interweaving  process.  The  short 
hair  on  their  foreheads  is  very  often  found  matted  into  little  balls  or 
small  lumps  with  ordinary  dirt,  showing  unmistakably  that  they  u.se 
their  heads  and  horns  in  tearing  up  the  earth.     This  they  have  been 


A  Musk -Ox  Hit  lit. 


327 


seen  to  do  when  closely  pressed  and  brought  to  ba\';  but  they  are  so 
seldom  hunted  that  we  maj-  suppose  their  head  antl  horns  are  used 
in  removing  the  snow  from  the  mossy  patches  where  they  graze  in 
the  winter-time.  Their  horns,  from  their  peculiar  shape,  would 
certainly  make  excellent  snow  shovels. 

Ihe  shape  of  these  weapons  of  def{;nse  is  certainly  most  peculiar. 
Starting  from  the  median  line  of  the  forehead,  at  which  point  the 
horns  are  joined  base  to  base,  they  present  a  thick,  flat  plate,  or 
shield,  of  corrugated  horn  almost  a  foot  in  width.  As  these  flat 
shields  circle  around  the  eyes,  about  four  inches  from  them,  the 
outer  edges  are  gradually  incurvated  until,  about  half  way  between 
the  eyes  and  nostrils,  a  perfect  horn  is  formed.  From  here  it 
tapers,  curling  upward  near  its  extremity  with  a  jauntiness  worthy 
of  a  Limerick  hook.  To  the  natives  of  the  north,  the.se  horns 
afford  many  implements  of  the  chase  and  household  utensils.  They 
thoroughly  understand  the  well-known  principle  of  steaming  the 
horn  in  order  to  render  it  soft  while  it  is  being  worked. 

The  native  bow  is  usually  made  of  two  or  three  sections  of 
musk-ox  horn,  tipped  with  the  shorter  horn  of  the  reindeer,  the 
whole  being  firmly  lashed  with  braid  made  from  the  sinew  on  the 
superficial  dorsal  muscles  of  the  reindeer,  a  cluster  of  these  braids 
about  as  thick  as  a  man's  middle  finger  running  the  length  of  the 
back  of  the  bow  to  give  it  strength  and  elasticity.  I  found  the 
Eskimos  of  King  William's  Land  and  vicinity  using  copper 
stripped  from  Sir  John  I'ranklin's  ships  to  rivet  their  bows  to- 
gether. The  Eskimo  bow  is  not  in  any  way  ecjual  to  the  Indian 
bow,  seldom  being  effective  at  over  forty  or  fifty  yards  with  such 
game  as  the  reindeer.  Except  as  children's  playthings,  bows  have 
entirely  disappeared,  wherever  intercourse  with  the  Hudson's  Bay 
Company  or  American  whalers  has  placed  fire-arms  in  the  hands 
of  the  natives,  and  this  includes  the  whole  of  the  great  Eskimo 
family  (or  Innuits,  as  they  should  be  properly  called),  except  those 
stretched  along  the  shores  of  the  Arctic  Ocean  from  about  King 
William's  Land  on  the  east  to  the  farthest  point  reached  by  Ameri- 
can whalers  from  the  Pacific  on  the  west. 

A  camp  is  always  picked  near  a  lake  which  the  Eskimos  know, 
by  certain  signs,  has  not  yet  frozen  to  the  bottom.  This  fact  is 
ascertained  by  placing  their  pug    noses   in  close  proximity  to  the 


11, 


I'' 


I 


lUti^a 


\  % 


Pi 


i 

11 

' 

111' 

- 

■  i'l^i 

'    ■■    1  SI' 

)    '*  il 

A 

1     '    Hi     iflg 

1      > 

If 

ill 

,1  V 


328 


A  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


W\ 


\x 


If 


;:  ' 


upper  surface,  when  the  peculiar  hues  indicate  the  presence  or 
absence  of  water.  While  the  most  of  the  party  are  building  their 
little  huts  of  snow  for  the  night's  encampment,  some  one  takes 
the  ice-scoop  and  chisel  and  fares  out  on  the  lake  and  selects  a 
place  for  his  operations.  He  then  digs  a  hole  with  the  chisel 
about  a  foot  in  diameter,  and  nearly  the  same  depth,  by  repeated 
vertical  strokes,  and  when  the  chopped  ice  or  debris  thus  formed 
commences  choking  this  instrument,  it  is  removed  with  the  ice- 
scoop,  and  this  alternation  of  cutting  and  removal  is  kept  up  until 
the  water  is  reached,  at  from  four  to  eight  or  ten  feet  below. 
This  digging  requires  far  more  dexterity  than  one  would  at  first 
glance  suppose.  The  amateur  finds  it  impossible  to  keep  it  from 
rapidly  narrc  v'nn-  < .  i  a  point  long  before  the  water  is  reached. 
Moreover,  it  ^  •.  .,  s  be  too  freely  chopped  it  becomes  reduced 
to    a    sort    of  ii  jt    which  will    pack   in   so    firmly  toward    the 

finishing  of  the  water-hole  that  the  edge  of  the  scoop  cannot  be 
wedged  under  .,  v.ith  it;  limited  play  of  action.  The  children 
and  old  women  of  th.  villaj. .;  nirv  draw  many  a  meal  of  goodly- 
sized  salmon  through  this  a\'enue,  and  this  necessitates  that  the 
hole  should  be  of  fair  size  throughout.  One  of  the  most  annoy- 
ing events  of  my  sledge  journey  was,  after  a  long  and  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  catch  something  at  one  of  these  water-holes,  to  find 
myself  suddenly  at  one,  and  a  big  salmon  at  the  other,  end  of  a 
strong  fish-line,  separated  by  an  ice-hole  through  which  neither 
could  pass. 

The  range  of  musk-cattle  is  quite  extensive.  They  occupy  the 
extreme  northern  shores  of  Greenland  on  both  the  east  and  west 
coasts  as  far  as  they  have  been  explored,  and  these  two  ranges  are 
probably  connected  around  the  northernmost  point  of  this  great  polar 
continent.  They  occur  on  both  sides  of  Smith  Sound,  and  in  general 
frequent  arctic  America  from  latitude  60°  to  79°  north,  and  from 
longitude  67°  30'  west,  almost  to  the  Pacific  coast.  It  is,  however,  in 
the  great  stretch  of  hilly  country  lying  between  North  Hudson's  Hay 
and  its  estuaries  on  the  south  and  east,  and  the  Arctic  Ocean  with 
its  intricate  channels  on  the  north  and  west,  that  these  animals  are 
found  in  the  largest  herds  and  greatest  numbers.  Captain  Hall,  in 
his  sledge  journey  from  Repulse  Bay  to  King  William's  Land,  in 
1869,  killed  79  musk-oxen,  whose  hides  alone  weighed  873  pounds. 


..F. 


A  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


329 


Dr.  Rae,  the  celebrated  Scotch  explorer  of  this  region  of  the  Arctic, 
also  secured  large  numbers  of  them.  The  musk-ox  occurs  fossil- 
ized at  Escholtz  Hay  on  the  north-west  coast,  and  fossil  oxen  found 
in  different  sections  of  the  United  States,  and  which  closely 
resemble  the  musk-ox,  have  been  described  by  Dr.  Leidy  in  the 
Smithsonian  Institution's  reports.  These  were  clothed  in  a  long 
fleece,  antl  roamed  through  the  Mississippi  Valley  just  before  the 
great  drift  period.  I'ossil  musk-oxen  exist  in  .Siberia  and  north- 
ern Europe  ;  but  their  living  descendants,  of  which  one  species  is 
known,  are  now  strictly  confined  to  the  arctic  region  of  the  Western 
continent. 

The  musk-ox  derives  its  name  from  the  peculiar  odor  which  it 
emits,  and  which  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  also  pervades  the  meat 
of  the  animal.  'I'he  younger  animals,  however,  are  much  milder, 
and  with  the  calves  I  have  never  been  able  to  discern  it  at  all.  Much 
of  this  odor  can  be  oi)viated  by  dressing  the  animal  as  soon  as 
killed,  especially  if  it  is  cold  we:ithc;r,  and  this  rule  may  be  said  to 
be  more  or  less  general  with  all  animals  and  birds  having  disagree- 
able odors  peculiar  to  their  kind. 

I  have  said  the  robes  are  almost  worthless  to  the  natives  except 
for  purposes  of  traffic.  They  are  sometimts  used  to  spread  on  the 
snow-bed,  as  the  first  layer  of  skins,  in  order  to  protect  the  snow 
from  the  heat  of  the  body;  but  even  here  they  are  not  nearly  so  serv- 
iceable as  the  robe  of  the  reindeer,  owing  to  the  facility  with  which 
the  snow  can  be  remo\ed  from  the  latter  by  a  few  strokes  of  a  stick. 
The  Ookjoolik,  or  Oo(|ueesik-.Salik  Eskimos  of  Hayes  River,  who 
are  not  armed,  and  consecpiently  can  procure  but  few  reindeer  (whose 
hide  is  the  universal  arctic  ch^thing),  "ftcn  make  long  boot-leggings 
and  gloves  of  musk-ox  fur,  and  this  gives  them  a  peculiarly  wild  and 
savage  appearance  that  contrasts  strangely  with  other  natives.  ihe 
almost  total  absence;  of  wood  in  their  country  —  the  little  they  get 
being  obtained  by  barter  with  distant  and  more  fortunate  tribes — 
forces  them  to  use  the  skin  of  the  musk-ox  for  sledging  in  their 
country.  The  ears  and  fore-legs  of  the  skin  being  lashed  almost 
together,  a  sledge-like  front  is  obtained,  and  the  articles  to  be  trans- 
ported are  loaded  on  the  trailing  body  behind.  Over  lakes,  rivers, 
and  flat  plains,  it  is  etiual  tf)  wood,  but  in  very  uneven  ground  its 
pliability  is  dangerous  to  fragile  loads. 


\\ 


r" 


330 


A  Musk -Ox  Hitut. 


/ 


nl 


When  closely  pressed,  the  musk-oxen  do  not  hesitate  to  throw 
themselves  from  the  steepest  and  deepest  precipices,  and  the  natives 
speak  of  occasions  where  they  have  secured  them  in  this  manner 
without  wasting  powder  or  lead,  finding  them  dead  at  the  foot  of  the 
descent.  Sir  James  Clarke  Ross  had  a  personal  observation  of  this 
kind  in  one  of  his  arctic  expeditions. 

McClintock  once  saw  a  cow  on  Melville  Island,  in  the  Parry 
archipelago,  which  was  of  a  pure  white  color,  an  albino  sort  of  devia- 
tion that  is  known  to  occur  among  the  buffalo  of  the  plains  at  rare 
intervals.  She  was,  however,  accompanied  by  a  black  calf.  This 
Melville  Island  is  abundantly  peopled  with  these  oxen,  not  less  than 
one  hundred  and  fourteen  being  shot  within  a  year  by  the  crews  of 
two  ships  wintering  there.  When  inhabiting  islands,  they  do  not 
seem  to  cross  from  one  to  another,  as  the  reindeer  constantly  do  when 
the  channel  is  frozen  over,  and  even  confine  their  annual  migrations 
to  very  limited  areas.  Different  writers  disagree  as  to  whether  they 
can  be  called  migratory  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word.  If  white  men 
are  hunting  them  without  dogs,  thej-  may  station  themselves  about  a 
herd,  close  in  to  seventy-  or  eight)'  yards,  and  then,  by  picking  off 
the  restless  ones  first,  so  bewilder  the  remainder  that,  with  fair  luck, 
they  may  secure  them  all.  There  are  several  instances  of  such 
methods  being  tolerably  successful.  When  the  temperature  reaches 
the  extremes  of  the  bitter  winter  weather,  as  from  — 60°  to  — 70° 
Fahrenheit,  the  musk-oxen  and  reindeer  herds  can  be  located,  at 
from  six  to  seven  miles  distance,  by  the  cloud  of  moisture  which 
hangs  over  them,  formed  by  their  condensing  breath,  and  from 
favorable  heights  at  even  fifteen  to  twenty  miles.  Even  at  these 
extreme  distances,  the  native  hunters  claim  that  they  can  discern  the 
difference  between  musk-oxen  and  reindeer  by  some  varying  peculi- 
arities of  their  vapors. 

I  remember  being  one  of  a  party  of  six — five  Innuits  besides  my- 
self— that  chased  on  a  fresh  trail  of  a  small  herd  of  musk-oxen  from 
about  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  until  night-fall,  which  was  four  in 
the  afternoon.  We  went  at  a  gait  which  would  be  called  a  good 
round  "dog-trot"  for  the  whole  time  (except  one  small  rest  of  five 
minutes).  This  is  much  easier  than  one  would  imagine,  with  a  couple 
of  dogs  harnessed  to  you  to  tow  you  along ;  yet  I  confess  I  was 
completely  fagged  out,  after  this  little  run  of  not  less  than  forty  or 


m. 
%w 


^ 


A  Musk -Ox  Hunt. 


331 


fifty  miles,  and  in  a  fine  comlitioii  to  believe  many  stories  of  endurance 
while  on  hunting  cluises  that  I  had  heanl  them  tell.  The  thermom- 
eter at  camp  reiristered  65°  helow  zero,  yet  there  was  no  suHering-  from 
the  still  cold  during  such  exercise,  and,  in  fact,  at  times,  I  felt  uncom- 
fortabl\-  warm. 

Ont-  of  their  peculiarities  which  I  have  noticed  is  that  when 
slightly  wounded,  if  the\'  have  been  knocked  over  upon  their  sides, 
they  seem  perfectly  powerless  to  rise,  either  from  fear  or  the  peculiar 
formation  of  their  legs.  Two  of  the  animals  we  shot  on  the  29th 
of  April  received  each  a  broken  shoulder  and  were  knocked  on  their 
sides.  The  native  men,  women,  and  l^oys  sat  upon  their  heaving 
sides,  evidently  enjoying  the  cruel  sport,  and  all  the  white  men  par- 
ticipated for  a  mere  second,  rather  to  pU'ase  their  savage  allies, 
until  1  recjuested  them  to  dispatch  the  brutes,  which  they  did  by  a 
well-directed  heart  thrust  with  a  snow-knife.  My  natives  spoke  of 
this  occurrence  as  a  rather  common  incident  of  the  musk-ox  battle- 
field. 


r     — 
'~'0 


'" '  ^'^^.^s^^^^&iN^''' 


4Tv 


*-^^  >  '■-  ""^* 


==«».> 


J:^-. 


AN    KSKIMO    CAM!'. 


!1 


IW. 


?'?  TJ 


ri  fc 


ir 


I 


1    r 


III 


FISH 


I     .  V 


y 


';k. 


f 


"':•  I 


/  shall  slay  liiiii  no  l(>iii:rr  than  ti>  wish  him  a 
rainy  iveninj^  to  irail  this  folloa'inff  ilistviirse ;  and 
that,  if  hi-  /<■  an  h<>n,-st  ani,--l,>\  the  i-ast  7,'ind  may 
nn'cr  bloio  u'hen  he  j^ofs  a  Jishini;. 

—  /::aah   Walton. 


iA 


V. 


mv\ 


'\ 


Mr  J 


1 

m 

m 

m 

m 

m 

Pi 


h 


f 


IRii 


'     t 


':i 


i  ill , 


I      ! 


.  i 


T  H  E    P  R I  M I T  I V  H    F I S  H  -  H  ( )  ()  K . 

Bv  BARNKI'    PHILLIPS, 

SKCRi:TAKY    (JF    THIi    AMI.RKAN    1  ISH    t;i  l.Tl'RAI,    ASSOCIAIIUN. 


I  HAVE  before  me  an  illustrated  catalogue  of  modern  fish-hooks 
and  angling  implements,  and  in  looking  over  its  pages  1  find  an 
cnibarras  t/c  choix.  I  have  no  need  for  rods,  for  mine,  like  well- 
kept  violins,  have  rather  improved  by  age.  A  lashing  may  be  frayed, 
or  a  ferrule  loose,  but  fifteen  minutes'  [)leasant  work  will  make  my 
rods  all  right  again.  Lines  are  sound,  for  I  have  carefully  stretched 
them  after  use.  But  my  honks  !  They  are  certainly  the  worse  for  wear. 
1  began  my  season's  fishing  with  a  meager  stock.  iM'iends  borrowed 
from  me,  and  in  replenishing  my  fly-book  in  an  out-of-the-way  place, 
th('  j)urchase  was  unsatisfactory.  As  I  lost  more  than  one  fish  from 
badly  tempered  or  worse  fashioned  hooks,  I  recalletl  a  delightful  paper 
by  i\Ir.  Froude.  Rod  in  hand,  he  was  whipping  some  pleasant  trout 
stream,  near  an  historic  site,  the  home  of  the  Russells,  and,  breaking 
his  hooks,  commenced  from  that  very  moment  to  indulge  in  the 
gloomiest  forebodings  as  to  the  future  of  England. 

Fairly  familiar  with  the  gcni^ral  character  of  fishing-gear,  either 
for  business  or  amusement,  I  see  in  w\\  book,  Kirby,  Limerick, 
Dublin,  O'.Shaughnessy,  Kinsey,  Carlisle,  I  larrison.  Central  Draught, 
as  .somewhat  distant  families  of  hooks,  used  for  sea  or  .  ver  fishing, 
and  from  these  main  stocks  there  grow  many  varieties,  with  all  con- 
ceivable twists,  ([uirls,  and  crookednesses.  I  discard  all  trap-hooks, 
infernal  machines  working  with  springs,  as  only  adapted  for  the 
capture  of  land  animals.  Somehow  I  rememin-r  an  aggressive  book, 
given    to    me  at  an  early  age,    whicii,   containing    more    than    one 

22 


:'U'' 


ll 

III 

pi 

: 


338 


The  Pnmitive  Fish -Hook. 


W) 


'■^^ 


■\  •  1 


depressintj  passage,  had  one  of  extraordinary  malevolence.  This 
was  couched  nearly  as  follows:  "Suppose  you  were  translated  only 
some  seven  hundred  years  back,  then,  pray,  what  would  you  be  good 
for?  Could  you  make  gunpowder?  You  have,  perhaps,  a  vague 
idea  that  sulphur,  saltpeter,  and  charcoal  are  the  component  parts, 
but  do  you  Know  where  or  how  they  are  procured  ? "  I  forget 
whether  this  dispiriting  author  was  not  equally  harrowing  in  regard 
to  the  youthful  reader's  turning  off  a  spectroscope  at  a  minute's 
notice,  or  wound  up  with  the  modest  request  that  you  should  try  your 
hand  among  the  Crusaders  with  an  aneroid  barometer  of  your  own 
special  manufacture. 

Still  this  question  arises :  Suppose  you  were  famishing,  though 
fish  were  plenty  in  a  stream,  and  you  had  neither  line  nor  hook, 
What  would  you  do  ?  Now,  has  a  condition  of  this  kind  ever 
occurred  ?  Yes,  it  has,  and  certainly  chousands  of  times.  Not  so 
many  years  ago,  the  early  surveyors  of  the  Panama  route  suffered 
terrible  privations  from  the  want  of  fishing  implements.  The  rains 
had  rendered  their  powder  worthless ;  they  could  not  use  their  guns. 
Had  they  only  been  provided  with  hooks  and  lines,  they  could  have 
subsisted  on  fish.  Then  there  are  circumstances  under  which  it 
would  be  really  necessary  for  a  man  to  be  somewhat  of  a  Jack-of-all- 
trades,  and  to  be  able  to  fashion  the  implements  he  might  require, 
and  so  this  crabbed  old  book  might,  after  all,  act  in  the  guise  of  a 
useful  reminder.  There  was  certainly  a  period,  when  every  man 
was  in  a  condition  of  comparative  helplessness,  when  his  existence 
depended  on  his  proficiency  in  making  such  implements  as  would 
catch  fish  or  kill  animals.  He  must  fashion  hooks  or  something  else 
to  take  fish  with,  or  die. 

Probably  man,  in  the  first  stage  of  his  existence,  took  much  of 
his  food  from  the  water,  although  whether  he  did  or  not  might 
depend  upon  locality.  If  on  certain  portions  of  the  earth's  surface 
there  were  stretches  of  land  intersected  by  rivers,  dotted  by  lakes,  or 
bordering  on  the  seas,  the  presence  of  shell-fish,  the  invertebrates  or 
the  vertebrates,  cetaceans  and  fish,  to  the  exclusion  of  land  animals, 
might  have  rendered  primitive  man  icthyophagous,  or  dependent  for 
subsistence  upon  the  art  of  fishing.  Hut  herein  we  grapple  at  once 
with  that  most  abstruse  of  all  problems,  the  procession  of  life.  Still, 
it  is  natural  to  suppose,  so  far  as  the  study  of  man  goes,  when  con- 


It!  ' 


It     ^ 

14 


-^ni^fif<f-»\m    ..iiiii  MiipKi, 


T/ie  Primitive  Fish -Hook. 


339 


sidered  in  relation  to  liis  pursuits,  that  in  the  early  dawn  of  humanity, 
mammals,  birds,  and  fish  must  have  been  synchronous. 

After  brute  instinct,  which  is  imitativeness,  then  came  shiftiness 
and  adaptiveness.  The  rapid  stride  of  civilization,  considered  in  its 
material  sense,  is  due  solely  to  the  use  of  such  implements  as  are 
specially  adapted  for  a  particular  kind  of  work.  With  primitive  man, 
this  could  never  have  been  the  case.  Tools  of  the  Paleolithic  or 
Neolithic  aj^e  (which  terms  indicate  steiges  of  civilization,  but  are 
not  chronological),  whether  they  were  axes,  hammers,  or  arrows, 
must  have  served  river-drift  or  cave-men  for  more  than  a  single  pur- 
pose. People  with  few  tools  do  manage  by  skill  alone  to  adapt 
these  to  a  variety  of  ends.  The  Fijian  and  the  Russian  peasant,  one 
with  a  stone  adze,  the  other  with  a  hatchet,  bring  to  their  trades  the 
minimum  of  tools.  The  Kafir,  with  his  assegai,  fights  his  battles, 
kills  cattle,  carves  his  spoons,  and  shaves  himself.  It  was  only  as 
man  advanced  that  he  devised  special  tools  for  different  purposes. 

According  to  our  present  acquaintance  with  primitive  habits,  if 
man  existed  in  the  later  Miocene  age,  and  used  a  lance  or  spear  for 
the  killing  of  land  animals,  he  probably  employed  the  same  wea[)ons 
for  the  destruction  of  the  creatures — possibly  of  gigantic  form  — 
inhabiting  the  seas,  lakes,  and  rivers.  The  presence  of  harpoons 
made  of  bone,  found  in  so  many  localities,  belonging  to  a  later 
period,  may  not  in  all  cases  point  to  the  existence  of  animals,  but  to 
the  presence  of  large  fish. 

Following,  then,  closely  the  advance  of  man,  when  his  fishing 
implements  are  particularly  considered,  we  are  inclined  to  believe 
that  he  first  used  the  spear  for  taking  fish ;  next,  the  hook  and  line ; 
and,  lastly,  the  net.  There  might  have  been  an  intermediate  stage 
between  tiie  spear  and  the  hook,  when  the  bow  and  arrow  were 
used. 

Interesting  as  is  the  whole  subject  of  primitive  fishing,  we  are, 
however,  to  occupy  ourselves  princi[)ally  with  the  form  of  the  primi- 
tive fish-hook.  To-day  there  are  some  careful  archaiologists  who  are 
not  willing  to  accept  that  particular  form  which  is  presented  lielow. 
I  believe,  from  the  many  reasons  which  can  be  advanced,  that  this 
simple  form  was  the  first  device  used  liy  man  in  taking  fish  with  a 
line.     The  argument  I  shall  use  is  in  some  respects  a  novel  one. 

These  illustrations,  e.xactly  copied  as  to  size,  represent  a  small 


'im\ 


i\\ 


340 


The  Priiiiitivc  Fish -Hook. 


1 

i 


i 


1:1 


5    V 


I  /    '■ 


i-        1 


il" 


If 


STONIC  KISH-GOHGR,  FROM  JIIE 
VAI.l.KY  OK  TllK  Si.MMli, 
(nF.W  YORK  MUSKTM  01' 
NATl  RAl.     IIISTOKY.) 


piece  of  dark,  polished  stone.  It  was  found  in  the  valley  of  the 
Sonime,  in  TVance,  and  was  dug  out  of  a  peat-bed  twenty- two  feet 
below  the  surface.      The  aye  of  this  peat-bed   has  been  variously 

estimated.  M.  Boucher  de  Perthes  thought 
that  thirty  thousand  years  must  have  elapsed 
since  the  lowest  layer  of  peat  was  formed. 
The  late  Sir  Charles  Lyell  and  Sir  John 
Lubbock,  without  too  strict  an  adherence  to 
date,  believed  that  this  peat-bed  represented 
in  its  formation  "  that  vast  lapse  of  time 
which  began  with  the  commencement  of  the 
Neolithic  period."  Later  emthorities  deem  it  not  older  than  seven 
thousand  years  u.  c. 

Wonderful  changes  have  come  to  pass  since  this  bit  of  polished 
stone  was  lost  in  what  must  have  been  a  lake.  Examining  this  piece 
of  worked  stone,  which  once  belonged  to  a  prehistoric  man  living  in 
that  valley,  we  find  it  fairly  well  polished,  though  the  action  of  count- 
less years  has  slightly  "  weathered  "  or  disintegrated  its  once  smooth 
surface.  In  the  center,  a  groove  has  been  cut,  and  the  ends  of  the 
stone  rise  slightly  from  the  middle.  It  is  rather  crescent-shaped.  It 
must  have  been  tied  to  a  line,  and  this  stone  gorge  was  covered  with 
a  bait ;  the  fish  swallowed  it,  and,  the  gorge  coming  crosswise  with 
the  gullet,  the  fish  was  captured. 

The  evolution  of  any  present  form  of  implement  from  an  older 
one  is  often  more  cleverly  specious  than  logically  conclusive ;  never- 
theless, I  believe  that,  in  this  case,  starting  with  the  crude  fish-gorge, 
I  can  show,  step  by  step,  the  complete  sequence  of  the  fish-hook,  until 
it  ends  with  the  perfected  hook  of  to-day.  It  can  be  insisted  upon  even 
that  there  is  persistence  of  form  in  the  descendants  of  this  fish-gorge, 
for,  as  Professor  Mitchell  writes  in  his  "  Past  in  the  Present,"  "an  old 
art  may  long  refuse  to  disappear  wholly,  even  in  the  midst  of  con- 
ditions which  seem  to  be  necessarily  fatal  to  its  continued  existence." 
In  the  Swiss  lakes  are  found  the  remains  of  the  Lacustrine  dwell- 
ers. Among  the  many  implements  discovered  are  fish-gorges  made 
of  bronze  wire.  When  these  forms  are  studied,  the  fact  must  be 
recognized  at  once  that  they  follow,  in  shape  and  principle  of  construc- 
tion, the  stone  gorges  of  the  Neolithic  period.  Now,  it  is  perfectly  well 
known   that  the  early  bronze-worker  invariably  followed   the  stone 


I  ' 


The  Pyiinitivc  Fish -Hook. 


341 


imiCdL.K    OK    A    I.ATKR 
I'KRIOI). 


patterns.     The  Lacustrine  (jors^es  have  had 
the  name  of  bricolc  <,nven  them.      This  is  a 
HKicoi.i;,  iKOM  TIM.  i.AKK  oi       taithful  coDv  "'    ^  broHze  bricole  found  in 

NKUI  CIIAIEI.. 

the  Lake  of  Neufchatel.  It  is  made  t)f 
bronze  wire,  and  is  bent  in  the  simplest  way,  with  an  open  curve 
allowing  the  line  to  be  fastened  to  it.  The  ends  of  the  gorge;  are 
very  slightly  bent,  but  they  were  probably  sharpened  when  first  made. 

This  bricole  varies  from  the  rather  straight 
one  found  in  the  Lake  of  Neufchatel,  and  be- 
longs to  a  later  period.  It  is  possible  to  imagine 
that  the  lake-dweller,  according  to  his  pleasure, 
made  one  or  the  other  of  th(;se  two  forms  of  fishing  implements.  As 
the  double  hook  recjuired  more  bronze,  and  bronze  at  first  was  very 
precious,  he  might  not  have  had  material  enough  in  the  early  period 
to  make  it.  This  device  is,  however,  a  clever  one,  for  a  fisherman 
of  to-day  who  had  lost  his  hook  might  imitate  it  with  a  bit  of  wire. 
Had  any  member  of  the  hungry  Isthmus  party  before  mentioned 
known  of  this  form  of  Lacustrine  hook,  he  might 
have  twisted  some  part  of  a  suspender  buckle,  pro- 
viding there  were  no  thorny  plants  at  hand,  and 
have  caught  fish. 

When  we  compare  the  four  forms,  showing 
only  their  outlines,  the  evolution  of  the  fish-hook 
can  be  better  appreciated.  Returning  to  the 
stone  fish-gorge,  the  work  of  the  Neolithic  period, 
it  is  evident  that  the  man  of  that  time  followed  the 
shape  handed  down  to  him  by  his  ancestors  ;  and  as 
this  fashioned  stone  from  the  valley  of  the  Somme  is  of 
a  most  remote  period,  how  much  older  must  have  been 
the  Paleolithic  fish-gorge  of  rough  stone.  It  might  have 
been  with  a  splinter  of  flint  attached  to  some  tendril,  in 
lieu  of  a  line,  that  the  first  fish  was  taken. 

It  is  very  curious  to  learn  that  in  I'Vance  a  modi- 
fication of  this  gorge-hook  is  in  use  to-day  for  catching  eels.  A 
needle  is  sharpened  at  its  eye-end,  a  slight  groove  is  made  in  the 
middle  of  it,  and  around  this  some  shreds  of  flax  are  attached. 
A  worm  is  spitted,  a  little  of  the  line  being  covered  with  the 
bait. 

22A 


DOIBI.E  IIIIOK,  FRiiM 
line  LAKE  OK  NKUK- 
ClIATEI..  (IN  Tin.  K)I.- 
l.EClluN  OK  I'KOK.  A. 
M.    MAYK.R.) 


I'HKFIIS  I ORIC 
ri'RMs. 


m\ 


IrV* 


■^ 


m^ 


i\ 
ill  I 


I!  :;!  ; 


II' ■  ■  • 


!■:  i     ! 


if 


■i'f| 


.ii    i    1 


!   i 


342 


T/ir  Priuiitivc  Fish -Hook. 


SllAlil'KNRI)  NEK- 
UI.K  USKD  lOR 
CATCHING  IISII 
rN     F  KANCK. 


Not  ocls  alone  are  taken  with  this  needle,  for  M. 
de  la  Blanchere  informs  us  that  jnany  kinds  offish  are 
caught  with  it  in  France. 

Any  doubts  as  to  the  use  of  the  Neolithic  form  of 
fish-gorge  must  be  removed  when  it  can  be  insisted 
upon  that  precisely  this  form  of  implement  was  in  use 
hy  our  Indians  not  more  than  forty  years  ago.  In 
1878,  when  studying  this  (juestion  of  the  primitive 
hook,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  receive  direct  testi- 
mony on  the  subject.  My  informant,  who  in  his 
younger  days  had  lived  among  the  Indians  at  the 
head-waters  of  Lake  Superior,  said  that  in  1846  the 
Indians  used  a  gorge  made  of  bone  to  catch  their  fish. 
My  authority,  who  had  never  .seen  a  prehistoric  fish- 
gorge,  save  the  drawing  of  one,  said  that  the  Indian 
form  was  precisely  like  the  early  shape,  and  that  the  Chippewas 
fished  some  with  the  hook  of  civilization,  others  with  bone  gorges 
of  a  primitive  period. 

In  tracing  the  history  of  the  fish-hook,  it  should  be  borne  in  mind 
that  an  overlapping  of  periods  must  have  taken  place.  B)'  this  is 
meant,  that  at  one  and  the  same  time  an  individual  employed  tools 
or  weapons  of  various  periods.  To-day,  the  Western  hunter  lights 
his  fire  with  a  match.  This  splinter  of  wood,  tipped  with  phospho- 
rus, the  chlorates,  sulphur,  or  paraffine,  represents  the  progn^ss  made 
in  chemistry  from  the  time  of  the  alchemists.  But  this  trapper  is 
sure  to  have  stowed  away  in  his  pouch,  ready  for  an  emergency,  his 
flint  and  steel.  The  Esquimau,  the  Alaskan,  shoots  his  seal  with  an 
American  repeating  rifle,  and,  in  lieu  of  a  knife,  flays  the  creature 
with  a  flint  splinter.  The  net  of  the  Norseman  is  to-day  sunk  with 
stones  or  buoyed  with  wood, — certainly  the  sam(!  devices  as  were 
used  by  the  earliest  Scandinavian, — while  the  net,  so  far  as  the 
making  of  the  thread  goes,  is  due  to  the  best  modern  mechanical 
appliances.  Survival  of  forms  require  some  consideration  apart  from 
that  of  material,  the  first  having  much  the  stronger  reasons  for  per- 
sistence. It  is,  then,  very  curious  to  note  that  hooks  not  made  of 
iron  and  steel,  but  of  l)ronze,  or  alloys  of  copper,  are  still  in  use  on  the 
coast  of  Finland,  as  I  have  (|uite  recently  obtained  brass  hooks  from 
Northern  Europe  such  as  are  commonly  in  use  by  fishermen  there. 


ii\ 


% 


%l 


The  Pnniitivc  Fisli-Hook. 


343 


POl'ni  R  IIOOK.HARHKI). 
IHOM    ^^^■l^^.   I.AKI-.S. 


The  origin  of  the  double  hook  havinj^  been,  I  believe,  satisfac- 
torily explained,  to  make  the  barb  on  it  was  readily  sut^gested  to 
primitive  man,  as  he  had  used  the  same  device  on  fish-spears  and 
har[)oons. 

This  double-barbed  hook  from  the  Swiss  lakes 
is  (juite  common.  Then,  from  the  double  to  the 
sinLjle  hook  the  transition  was  rapid.  Sinj^le 
bronze  hooks  of  the  Lacustrine  period  sometimes 
have  no  barb.  Such  differences  as  exist  are  due 
to  the  various  methods  of  attachint:^  the  line. 

in  Professor  A.  M.  Mayer's  collection  there 
is  a  Lacustrine  bronze  hook,  the  shank  of  which  is  bent  over 
parallel  with  the  stem  of  the  hook.  This  hook  is  a  large  one, 
and  must  have  been  used  for  big  fish  —  probably  the  trout  of  the 
Swiss  lakes. 

Hooks  made  of  stone  arc  exceedingly  rare,  and  though  it  is 
barely  possible  that  they  might  have  been  used  for  fish,  I  think  this 
has  not  been  conclusively  shown.  Wilson  gives,  in  his  work,  draw- 
ings of  two  stone  hooks  which  were  found  in  Scandinavia.  Though 
the  theory  that  these  stone  objects  were  fashioned  for  fishing  is  sup- 
ported by  so  good  an  authority  as  Mr.  Charles  Kau,  the  archa'olo- 
gist  of  the  United  States  National  Museum  at  Wash- 
ington, it  does  not  seem  to  me  possible  that  these 
hooks  could  have  been  made  for  fishing.  Such  forms, 
from  the  nature  of  the  material,  would  have  been 
exceedingly  difficult  to  fashion,  and,  even  if  made, 
would  have  presented  few  advantages  over  the  prim- 
itive gorge. 

This,  however,  must  be  borne  in  mind  :     in  catch- 
ing   fish,   i^rimitive    man    could    have  had    no    inkling 
)rcsent:  curved  form  of  fish-hook,   which,   with 


secures    the    fi.;h    by 


penetration. 


A    1 


arge 


proportion  of  sea-fish,  and  many  river- 
fish,  swallow  the  hook,  and  are  caught, 
not  by  the  hook  entering  the  jaws  of  the 


fish, 


but    l)ecause    it    is 


faste 


necl    in 


th 


eir 


BRONZE    FISH-HOOKS 
COl.LKCTIONOI 


stomachs.      In    the    Ciloucester    fisherman's 
language  of   to-day,   a   fish  so  captured    is 


i 


:itf  ■! 


"m 


!       '' 


II 


t^';;: 


m 


344 


T/tc  Primitive  Fish- Hook. 


AN    ALASKAN    FISH-HOOK. 


called  "poke-hooked";  and  accordingly,  when  the  representative 
of  the  Neolithic  period  fished  in  that  lake  in  the  valley  of  the 
Somme,  all  the  fish  he  took  must  have  been  poke-hooked.  A  hone 
hook,  excellent  in  form,  has  been  found  near  the  remains  of  a  ' 
huge  species  of  pike  ( Jisox ).  Hooks  made  of  the  tusks  of  the 
wild  boar  have  also  been  discovered  with  Lacustrine  remains. 

In  commentin_i(  on  the  large  size  of  the  bone  hook  figured  in 
Wilson's  work,  its  proximity  to  the  remains  of  large  fish  was  noticed. 
When  the  endless  varieties  of  hooks  belonging  to  savage  races  are 
subjects  of  discussion,  the  kind  of  fish  they  serve  for  catching  should 
always  be  cited.  In  the  examples  of  hooks  which  illustrate  works 
of  travel,  a  good  many  errors  arise  from  the  simple  fact  that  the 
writers  are  not  fishermen.  Although  the  outline  of  a  hook  be  accu- 
rately given,  the  method  of  securing  it  to  the  line  is  often  incorrectly 
drawn. 

In  the  engraving  at  the  top  of  this  page,  an  Alaskan  halibut- 
hook  is  represented.  The  form  is  a  common  one,  and  is  used  by  all 
the  savage  races  of  the  Pacific ;  but  the  main  interest  lay  in  the 
manner  of  tying  the  line  to  this  hook.  Since  the  fish  to  be  caught 
was  the  halibut,  the  form  was  the  best  adapted  to  the  taking  of  the 
Hippoglossus  AmcHcanns ;  but  had  the  line  been  attached  in  any 
other  way  than  exactly  as  represented,  this  big  fish  could  hardly 
have  been  caught  with  such  a  hook. 

In  the  drawing,  the  halibut-hook  hangs  but  slightly  inclining 
toward  the  sea-bottom,  the  weight  of  the  bait  having  a  tendency  to 
lower  it.     In  this  position  it  can  be  readily  taken  by  the  fish  ;  but 


' 

1  i' 

■ 


The  Pn  mi  five  Fish -Hook. 


345 


ALASKAN     IIA[,I1U  T-lliioK,       (IK(IM     lin:    I  {iM.K(  TIDN    (\V    I'Km.    A     M.    MAYi.K.) 


should  it  l)e  suspended  in  a  different  way,  it  must  be  at  once  seen 
how  difficult  it  would  be  for  the  fish  to  swallow  it.  In  this  Alaskan 
hook  must  be  recognized  the  very  first  idea  of  what  we  call  to-day 
the  center-draught  hook.  A  drawing  is  also  given  of  a  steel  hook 
of  a  peculiar  form  coming  from  Northern  Russia.  The  resemblance 
between  the  Alaskan  and  this  Russian  hook  is  at  first  apparently 
slight,  but  they  both  are,  nevertheless,  constructed  on  the  same 
principle.  When  this  Russian  hook  is  seized  by  the  fish,  and  force 
is  applied  to  the  line  by  the  fisherman,  the  point  of  the  barb  and  the 
line  are  almost  in  one  and  the  same  direction.  Almost  the  same  may 
be  said  of  the  Alaskan  hook.  Desirous  of  testing  the  capabilities  of 
this  hook,  I    had  a  gross  made  after  the   Russian   model,  and   sent 


,-lt 


ALASKAN    II  ALim'T-IIOOK. 


f  ,1 


I 


i! 


Mi     -. 


til-    ■ 


ill 
I.I 


f  i 


346 


T/ie  Primitive  Fish -Hook. 


them  to  Captain  J.  W.  Collins,  of  the  United  States  I-'ish  Commission, 
stationed  at  (jloiicester,  reqiiestin<,f  him  to  distribute  them  amonjr  the 
fishermen.  While  writin^^  this  article,  I  am  in  receipt  of  a  letter  from 
Captain  Collins,  informinjj  me  that  these  hooks  are  excellent,  the 
captains  of  fishing-smacks  reporting  that  a  great  many  deep-sea  fish 
were  taken  with  them. 


RUSNIAN     ri>ll-llnOK. 


A  study  of  these  hooks  —  the  Alaskan  and  Russian  —  with  refer- 
ence to  the  method  of  attaching  the  line,  explains,  I  think,  the 
peculiarity  of  certain  shell-hooks  of  great  antiquity  found  in  Cali- 
fornia which  have  puzzled  archaeologists.  These  hooks,  the  originals 
of  which  are  to  be  found  in  the  National  Museum  at  Washington, 
are  shown  in  the  followini^  engravings.  The  notch  cut  in  one  of 
the  hooks  seems  to  show  that  the  line  was  attached  at  that  place. 
Hang  the  hooks  in  any  other  position  and  they  would  catch  no  fish, 
for  one  could  hardly  suppose  that  the  blunt  barb  could  penetrate 
the  mouth  of  the  fish. 

If  there  be  some  doubt  entertained  by  American  archaeologists 
as  to  the  use  of  these  shell-hooks,  there  can  be  none  in  regard  to 
their  having  barbs.  The  barbs  turn  outward,  in  which  respect 
they  differ  from  all  the  primitive  European  hooks  I  have  seen. 
In  confirmation  of  the  idea  advanced  as  to  the  proper  place  of 
attaching  the  line.  Professors  C.  C.  Abbott  and  F.  W.  Putnam,  in 
a  chapter  entitled  "  Implements  and  Weapons  made  of  Hone  and 
Wood,"  in  the  United  States  Geographical  Survey,  west  of  the  hun- 


The  Pyimitive  Fish-Hook. 


347 


ilir.    ni.lilNMNfi    Ol      A    SIIKI.I.     IIODK.       (IN    TIIK    COl.l.KrTION    OK     l)l(.     WI.ST.) 

dredth  meridian,  write,  referring  to  these  hooks  :  "  These  hooks  are 
flattened  and  are  longer  than  wide.  *  *  *  The  barbs  in  these 
specimens  are  judged  by  fishermen  of  to-day  to  be  on  the  wrong 
side  of  a  good  fish-hook,  and  the  jDoint  is  too  near  tiie  shank.  Hy 
having  the  line  so  fastened  that  the  point  of  tension  is  at  the  notch 
at  the  base  of  the  shank,  instead  of  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  stem, 
the  defect  of  the  design  of  the  hook  would  be  somewhat  remedied, 
as  the  barb  would  be  forced  down,  so  that  it  might  possibly  catch 
itself  in  the  lower  jaw  of  the  fish  that  had  taken  the  hook."  The 
summing  up  of  this  is,  I  think,  that  in  an  imperfect  way  the  maker 
of  this  Santa  Barbara  hook  had  some  idea  of  the  efficiency  of  a 
center-draught  hook.  As  the  first  stej)  in  manufacturing  this  hook, 
a  hole  was  drilled  in  the  shell,  and  the  hook  finished  up  afterward  by 
rounding  the  outside.  Dr.  West,  of  Brooklyn,  has  a  series  of  such 
primitive  work  in  his  collection. 


\  I  ^ 


SHKI.I.    HOOK.       INAIIONAI.    MUsKLM,    UAMIINGTON.) 


I  ill 


I    ■ 


I' 


fl'i 


I   I  i 


348 


7/ic  Pi'iinitivc  /'is/i-l/ook. 


Slll'.l.l,    IIOdK.       (NAI'ImNAI,     MlM,l!M,    WASIllNCTON.) 

To  advance  the  idea  that  in  all  cases  hooks  have  been  improved 
by  slightly  increased  culture  amon_L(  semi-civilized  races  would  be 
a  source  of  error.  It  is  cjuite  possible  that  in  many  instances  there 
has  been  retrogression  from  the  better  forms  of  fishmg  implements 
once  in  use.  This  relapse  might  have  been  brought  about,  not  so 
much  by  a  decrease  of  intelligence,  as  changes  due  to  fortuitous 
causes.  A  fishing  race  might  have  been  driven  away  from  a  shore 
or  a  river-bank  and  replaced  by  an  inland  people. 

Some  primitive  races  still  use  a  hook  made  from  a  thorn,  and  in 
this  practice  we  find  to-day  a  most  wonderful  survival.  On  the  coast 
of  France,  hooks  made  of  thorns  are  still  used  to  catch  fish,  the  fish- 
ermen representing  that  they  possess  the  great  advantage  of  costing 
nothing  and  of  not  fouling  on  the  sea-bottom.     The  Piutes  take  the 


SHELL    HOOK    I  ROM    SANIA    BARllAKA.        (NAIIciNAL    MISICIM,    WASIllNCTON. 


til 

I  lie  rriniitivc  I'isli-Uook. 


349 


spine  t)f  a  cactus,  Ijcndiiig  it  to  suit  tiu;ir  purpose,  ami  vt'r\  simple 
barblcss  iiooks  of  tiiis  kind  may  be  seen  in  liu:  ciiik-ftidns  ot'  die 
National  Musi'nm  at  Washington. 

Uiuloubtedl)-,  in  primitive  times,  iiooks  of  a  (.oinpomul  charaelcr 
were  useil.  just  as  men  tippicl  a  deer's  antler  with  a  Hint,  tluy 
combineil  mort-  than  one  material  in  the  makintr  of  their  hooks,  lash- 


Slll   I  I,     IKMIk     IKllM     '.WIA     ll\Ull"\U\.        (N\ri(lS.\l,     Ml   -.KIM,    IHl>,l()N.) 


injr  toi^cther  a  shank  of  bone  or  v.ooil  with  a  bronze  barb.  It  would 
be  almost  impossible  in  a  sinj^le  article  to  follow  all  the  varieties 
of  hooks  used  and  the;  ingenuity  displayed  in  their  manufacture. 
Occasional!),  a  savage  will  construct  a  lure  for  fish  which  rivals  the 
daintiest  fly  eviM*  made  by  the  most  fastidious  of  anglers,  in  Pro- 
fessor Mayer's  collection  there  is  an  c:.\ce{;tlin.i,dy  clever  iiook,  coming' 
from  the  North-western  coast,  wliich  shows  very  fme  lapitlar)  work. 
A  small  red  (juartoze  pebble  of  L;reat  hardness  has  i)een  rounded, 
polished,  and  joined  to  a  piece  of  Ijoni:.  'Ihe  piece  i;;  small,  not 
more  than  an  inch  and  three-cpiarters  in  length,  and  mii^ht  W(i,L;h  an 
ounce  and  a  half  In  the  shank  of  bone  a  small  hook  is  hidden,  it 
somewhat  imitates  a  shrimp.  The  parts  are  joined  tos^redur  b\-  lash- 
iiiijfs  of  tendon,  and  these  are  laid  in  ^ji-ooves  cut  into  tlur  stone.  It 
must  have  taken  much  toil  to  perfect  this  clever  artificial  l-ait,  and, 
as  it  is  to-day,  it  might  be  used  with  succtiss  by  a  clever  stripetl-l)ass 
fisherman  at  Newport. 

In  this  necessarily  brief  study  of  primitive  fishino',  I  have 
endeavored  to  show  the  jrenesis  of  the  fish-hook,  from  the  stone 
gorge    to    the    more    perfected     implement    of    to-day.      Simple    as 


m\ 


»,f 


1^  n 


m 

I: 


M 


i 


m^  .i 


350 


7Vie  Pnniitivc  Fis/i-IIook. 


it  may  seem,  it  is  a  subject  on  whicli  a  good 
deal  of  research  is  still  reciuisite.  "  It  is  not 
an  acquaintance  with  a  single  series  of  things 
which  can  throw  light  on  any  subject,  but  a 
thorough  comprehension  of  the  whole  of  them." 
If  in  the  Swiss  lakes  there  are  found  bronze 
hooks  of  a  very  large  size  out  of  proportion 
to  the  fish  which  swim  there  to-day,  it  is  but 
just  to  suppose  that,  many  thousands  of  years 
ago,  long  before  history  had  its  dawn,  the 
aquatic  fauna  were  then  of  greater  bulk  than 
in  1883.  Considerations  on  the  primitive  form 
of  the  fish-hook  must  even  comprehend  exam- 
ination of  prior  geological  conditions,  differences 
of  land  and  water,  or  such  geographical  changes 
as  may  have  taken  place.  Then  ichthyology 
becomes  an  important  factor,  for  by  the  char- 
acter of  the  hook,  the  kind  of  fish  taken,  in  some  instances,  may  be 
understood.  We  are  fast  coming  to  this  conclusion  :  th.it,  putting 
aside  what  can  only  be  the  merest  speculations  as  to  the  condition 
of  man  when  he  is  said  to  have  first  diverged  from  the  brute,  he 
was  soon  endowed  with  a  wonderful  degree  of  intelligence.  And, 
if  I  am  not  mistaken,  primitive  man  did  not  confine  himself  in  his 
fisi>ing  to  the  rivers  and  lakes  alone,  but  went  out  boldly  to  sea 
after  the  cod. 


i\RTll  I<  lAI.STONI.  SIIRIMI'. 
(I  KOM  Tllr.  Cnl.l.KCTlON 
Cll     I'KdK.  „.  M     MAYKR.) 


I'    \      I 


■ 


TROUT-FISHING    IN    THH    RANGHLEV    LAKES. 


By    EDWARD    SEYMOUR. 


M 


JOSELUCMAGUNTIC,  Molcchunkcmunk,  Welokcneba- 
cook,  Cupsuptuc,  and  Ranijcley  arc  the  names  carried  by 
the  individual  members  of  a  group  of  lakes  which  are  yet 
destined  to  be  as  familiar  in  the  literature  of  the  American  sports- 
man as  the  salmon  rivers  of  Canada  or  the  trout  streams  of  the 
Adirondacks.  These  lakes  lie  in  the  western  part  of  Maine,  near 
the  New  Hampshire  boundary  line.  The  White  Mountains  are 
some  thirty  miles  distant,  a  little  to  the  west  of  south,  and  Moose- 
head  Lake  is  about  sixty  or  seventy  miles  to  the  north-east.  It 
may  be  absolute  incredulity  as  to  the  fish  stories  which  are  told 
of  these  lakes, — it  is  hard  for  one  who  has  not  seen  a  speckled 
trout  wei<rhin<4'  ten,  eight,  or  even  six  pounds  to  have  faith  in  the 
existence  o{'  a  fish  of  this  size  and  species, — or  it  may  be  de- 
spair of  defining  his  destination  when  the  sportsman  reads  the  unpro- 
ncmnceable  names  which  these  lakes  bear ;  but  whatever  the  cause, 
the  number  of  visitors  to  this  region  has  thus  far  been  comparatively 
small.  Thoreau,  to  be  sure,  described  it  in  a  general  way  years  ago, 
and  so  did  Theodore  W'inthrop;  but  th<  'r  accounts  made  it  ap|)ear 
like  a  /crm  i/icoi^uifa,  full  of  ili(ticulti(;s  when  it  was  once  reached. 

Maine  is  so  profusely  dotted  ov(-'r  with  lakes  as  to  suggest  the 
thought  that  the;  .State  has  not  yet  been  well  drained,  or  that  a  slight 
tilting  of  the  continent  might  depress  the  general  levcil  of  this  region 
so  as  to  submerge  it  in  the  Atlantic.  But  the  fact  is  that  the  lakes 
which  have  just  been  named  are  between  fourti^en  and  fifteen  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea-level,  ami  are  embo.somed  in  mountains, 
some  of  which  reach  a  height  of  two,  three,  and  even  four  thousand 


r' 'ill 


im 


y'i 


A 


n 


'::\ 


<! 


I'- 
ll; i'U 

|l    ^' 

% '  ■  ' 

352 


Twiit-Fishiug  in  the  Raiigclcy  Lakes. 


feet.  Approachinsj;  from  the  south-east  by  way  of  l'"arniinji;ton  and 
Phillips,  )ou  first  strike  Ranjreley  Lake  at  its  extreme  eastern  end; 
and  here  the  entire  yroup  is  generally  sjjoken  of  as  the  Ranyeley 
Lakes.  Cominir  from  the  other  direction,  by  way  of  AndovtT, 
Welokenebacook  is  first  reached ;  antl  in  this  region  one  hears 
the  group  spoken  of  as  the  Richardson  Lakes,  althougli  this  name  is 
properly  applicable  only  to  Welokenebacook  and  IMolechunkemunk. 

Leaving  Portland  a  little  after  one  o'clock,  )ou  arrive  at  I'^arming- 
ton  about  si.x.  A  sujjper  at  the  Poorest  Mouse  fortifies  you  for  an  eight- 
een-mile ride  to  Phillips;  and  this  is  materially  shortened  by  "Uncle 
John's"  famous  "bear  story"  and  other  characteristic  narratives. 
Stopping  overnight,  you  take  an  early  start  the  next  morning,  and 
after  a  stage  ride  of  twenty  miles  reach  Kimball's  Hotel,  at  the  head 
of  Rangeley  Lake,  by  noon.  Taking  dinner  ht-re,  and  after  it  one  of 
the  little  steamers  which  have  recently  invaded  the  sanctity  of  these 
lakes,  you  are  in  an  hour  and  a  half  landed  at  the  foot  of  Rangeley. 

In  comparison  with  the  unpronounceable  Indian  names  which  the 
contiguous    lakes    bear,  that  of   Rangeley  appears    singularly  com- 


/ 


r 


,t"V^-a 


.'5     -    flVC*?S— /.w5  MT 


tf^CZS,  and  >J£AD  WATERS 


I 


xtftsrmo 


\. 


^y^ 


-\ 


f 


r- 


;'~^4<&'"' 


Ml' 


Trout-Fishing  in  the  Rangolcy  Lakes. 


353 


Ilk    j\(:ki. 

monplace  and  civilized,  but  formerly  it  was  quite  as  well  off  as  its 
neiijhhors.  Originally,  it  was  known  as  Oquossoc  Lake,  i)ut  about 
fifty  years  at^o  a  wealthy  Knirlish  squire,  Rani^eU-y  by  name, 
having-  weari(;d  of  the  civilized  tameness  of  his  \'ir,i,nnia  estate, 
decideil  to  settle  in  this  north(.'rn  wiUlernc-ss.  He  cleared  a  broad 
tract  at  the  outlet  of  kanj^eley  Lake,  built  a  dam  across  tht;  stream, 
erected  extensive  saw  and  tjrist  mills,  and  expended  lari^e  sums  ot 
money  in  other  improvements.  His  supplies  of  all  kinds  were  trans- 
ported from  Phillips  or  I-'armins.jton,  a  distance  of  thirty  to  fifty  miles, 
and  he  was  compelled  to  haul  his  lumber  a  hundred  miles  to  find  a 
market.  I''or  twenty  years  Scjuin;  Rangcley  lived  here,  pushinjj^  his 
business  enterprises  with  great  energy  and  more  or  less  success,  and 
enjoying  the  field  sports,  of  which  he  was  passionately  fond.  Moose, 
cariijou,  deer,  bears,  and  wolves  were  his  constant  neighbors;  ducks, 
gee.se,  partridge,  antl  smaller  game  were  so  abundant  that  shooting 
them  could  hardly  be  called  sport;  and  l)ro()k-tr()Ut,weighing  from  six 
to  nine  pounds  could  be  taken  by  the  score  from  the^'stream  which  ran 
past  his  front  door.  Wlien  Scpiire  Rangi;ley  gave  up  the  enterprise 
which  he  had  pushed  for  a  time  with  so  mucii  energy,  his  mills  and 
buildings  werr:  all  abandoned,  anil  the  clearings  which  he  had  made 
were  rapidly  seeded  down  by  the  hand  of  natun; ;  |)ines,  spruces,  juni- 
per, and  fir  springing  uji  everywhere  in  place  of  the  ancient  monarchs 
of  the  primeval  forest  which   he  had   cleared  away  at  the  cost  of  so 

23 


i 


■i  I  , : 


ijfei 


mi 

! 

: :'  ?    i 


!^ 


!.  i  I 


354 


Trout-Fishing  in  the  Rangelcy  Lakes. 


much  labor.  Twenty  years  ago,  the  frame  and  roof  of  the  massive 
old  mill  were  still  standing,  but  in  1866  these  were  pulled  down,  and 
the  solid  pine  timbers  of  the  structure  were  incorporated  in  the  new 
dam  which  was  then  built  for  the  purpose  of  floating  logs  through  the 
oudet  in  the  early  spring/  Of  the  old  homestead,  which  occupi(;d  a 
commanding  site  on  a  beautiful  knoll,  only  the  decayed  foundation  tim- 
bers remain.  Enough  of  the  "potash"  building  still  stands  to  give  a 
passable  shelter  to  the  benighted  angler.  With  these  exceptions, 
.Squire  Rangeley's  "improvements"  have  all  disappeared.  The 
township  which  he  once  owned,  however,  still  bears  his  name. 
Nearly  all  of  the  lake  lies  within  i'ts  limits.  The  town  of  Rangeley 
— or  the  "city,"  as  the  natives  call  it — is  half  a  mile  back  from  the 
extreme  eastern  end  of  the  lake.  Most  of  the  male  inhabitants  of 
the  village  devote  themselves  to  "guiding"  throughout  the  entire 
fishing  season,  and  spruce-gum  in  its  native  state  is  one  of  its  chief 
export.s.  Apart  from  these  "industries,"  there  is  little  that  is  note- 
worthy about  the  town,  and  the  sportsman  misses  nothing  which  he 
has  cause  to  regret  in  the  fact  that  his  route  does  not  take  him  to 
the  "city." 

Leaving  the  steamer  "  Molly-chunk-e-mvmk," — the  name  of  which 
has  thus  gallandy  been  metamorphosed  and  Anglicized  from  the 
Indian  appellation  of  Lake  IVIole-chunk-e-munk, — members  of  the 
Oquossoc  .\ngling  Association  and  visitors  to  their  camp  crossed  a 
two-mile  carry  from  the  foot  of  Rangeley  Lake  to  the  junction  of 
Kennebago  Stream  with  Rangeley  Stream,  where  is  Camp  Kenne- 
bago.  A  wagon  took  the  baggage,  while  the  sportsmen  themselves 
walked  across  through  an  excellent  wood  road,  which,  however,  was 
marshy  enough  in  spots  to  make  very  careful  stepping  or  very  thick 
boots  indispensable.  Indian  Rock — a  locality  famous  even  in  the 
aboriginal  annals  of  Maine,  as  its  name  indicates — is  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  stream,  directly  facing  Camp  Kennebago.  Tradition  relates 
that  this  spot  was  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  Indian  long  before  the 
white  man  ventured  so  far  into  the  forest,  and  that  as  late  as  1855 
they  made  visits  here  from  Can?'  'a  each  season. 

The  lakes  of  the  Rangeley  griup  are  so  located  with  respect  to 
one  another  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  for  the  visitor  to  get  a  clear 
idea  of  their  relative  positions.  Nothing  does  this  so  effectively  as 
an    ascent   of   Maid  Mountain,  which   is  one  of  the  most  prominent 


•  "I 


•  ;V 


Trout -Fishing  in  the  Rangclcy  Lakes 


355 


1  a 


'55 


TIIK    JUNCIIOM    OK    RANfJKI.KY    AND     KENNKIIAGO. 

objects  in  this  whole  landscape,  since  it  rises  seventeen  hundred  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  lake.  The  ascent  may  be  made  with  compara- 
tive ease  by  any  one  at  all  accustomed  to  mountain  climbing,  as 
there  are  several  paths  to  the  summit.  Hald  Mountain  is  in  reality  a 
peninsula.  Its  base  is  washed  l)y  Ranj^eley  Lake,  Rangeley  Stream, 
Cupsuptuc  Lake,  and  Mooselucmaguntic.  A  narrow  strip  of  land 
on  the  south  connects  it  with  the  main-land.  Once  on  the  summit, 
looking  eastward,  you  see  the  Rangeley,  its  graceful  form  deeply 
outlined  and  every  indentation  plainly  marked.  ( )ld  .Saddleback, 
rock-ribbed  and  bare,  and  rising  four  thousand  feet,  faces  you.  Still 
further  east  are  the  twin  Higelows,  Mount  Abraham,  and  the  East 
and  West  Kennebago  Mountains.  That  thread  of  silver  in  the 
immediate  foreground  is  the  wide  and  rapid  Rangeley  outlet,  which 
falls  twenty-five  feet  in  the  two  miles  intervening  between  the  point 
where  it  leaves  the  lake  and  its  junction  with  the  calmer  and  deeper 
waters  of  the  Kennebago.  .\t  this  point  can  be  clearly  tlistinguished 
the  grounds  and  buildings  of  Camp  Kennebago,  with  the  stars  and 
stripes  waving  from  the  tall  flag-staff.  .Something  more  than  words 
is  necessary  to  do  full  justice  to  the  exquisitely  varied  panorama 
of  lake  and  mountain,  the  beauty  of  which  could  be  hardly  more 
than  indicated  by  the  catalogue  of  names  necessary  to  identify  them. 
Few  finer  views  can  be  found  in  the  Hnglish  lakes,  among  the 
Trossachs,  or  even  in  Switzerland,  than  this  from  the  summit  of 
Bald  Mountain. 


,  ;■  . 


Ma 


til 


.1  I 


.1 1 


;     1    ' 

H< ' 

H   ik    i 

ff '^ '    ■ 

';i  1 

1':  I 
1  -.1 

,f\.'     -i 


I  i  i 


ifi^ 


n:  !  i' 


5|: 


IH' 


Tlf 

i  ■  s 

! 

1 

1 

1     ' 

¥' 

"ill 

356 


Twitt-Fisliing  in  the  Rangclcy  Lakes. 


(AMI'    KKNNKHAOii. 


IBcforc  clescribint(  Camp  Kcnnebago  in  detail,  it  may  be  as  well 
to  <rive  in  brief  a  sketch  of  the  history  of  the  Ocjuossoc  .\nglinj4 
Association,  of  which  ortjanization  this  camp  is  the  heatl-(iuarters. 
So  lonij  as  thirty  years  a_i;o,  a  sportsman  now  and  then  worked 
his  way  throusj^h  the  wilderness  to  these  lakes,  l)iit  it  is  only  within 
the  last  twent)-  years  that  the  Ran^eley,  Kennebago,  and  Cupsiip- 
tuc  Lakes,  with  the  upper  end  of  Mooselucmaguntic,  have  jjecome  at 
all  well  known  to  anglers.  The  Richardson  Lakes — Welokeneba- 
cook  and  Molechiinkemunk,  with  Umbagog,  forming  the  lower  lakes 
in  the  great  chain  whence  the  Androscoggin  River  derives  its 
mighty  power — have  for  the  last  thirty  or  forty  years  been  fre- 
(juented  by  a  score  or  more;  of  Boston  and  New  York  gentlemen. 
These  sportsmen  were  invariably  found  at  "  Rich's,"  "  Middle  Dam," 
Mosquito  Brook,  or  the  "  Upi)er  Dam."  Hundreds  of  spotted 
beauties,  weighing  from  two  to  eight  pounds,  were  captured  by 
these  anglers  year  after  year,  but  they  wisely  kept  their  own  coun- 
sel, and  if  an  item  occasionally  found  its  way  into  the  New  \'ork  or 
Boston  papers  chronicling  the  arrival  of  a  six  or  eight  pound  speckled 
trout,  those  who  claimed  to  be  best  informed  dismissed  the  paragraph 
with  a  sneer  at  the  ignorance  of  editors  who  did  not  know  the  differ- 
ence between  brook-trout  and  "lakers."    In  i860,  Henry  O.  Stanley, 


I' 


Trout-Fishing  in  the  Range /ev  Lakes. 


357 


of  Dixrielcl,  now  one  of  the  efficient  commissioners  of  fisheries  for 
the  State  of  Maine,  orsj^anized  an  expedition  to  penetrate  to  the  lakes 
from  the  upper  enil.  Twenty  years  before,  Mr.  Stanley's  father  had 
made  the  survey  of  much  of  the  lake  country,  antl,  discovering  the 
extraordinary  size  of  the  trout,  had  frequently  repeated  his  visits. 


'^^^^^^ 


Ll'I'KU     DAM. 


The  son  now  and  then  accompanied  his  father  on  these  trips,  and 
with  such  a  preceptor  in  the  yentle  art,  and  with  such  opportunties 
for  its  practice,  it  is  not  strange  that  Mr.  Stanley  should  have 
achieved  the  distinction  of  being  the  champion  fly-fisher  of  the  world. 
His  record  of  brook-trout  weighing  from  three  to  nine  and  a  half 
pounds,  all  taken  with  the  fly,  reaches  many  hundred.  The  party 
which  Mr.  Stanley  headed  on  the  occasion  alluded  to  made  its  way 
to  the  lake,  z'/a  Dixfield,  Carthage,  Weld,  Phillips,  and  Madrid, 
striking  first  the  upper  end  of  Rangeley.  One  of  its  members,  Mr. 
George  Shejiard  Page,  of  Xew  \'ork  City,  was  so  delighted  with 
his  experience  upon  this  trip  that  in  1S6:;  he  made  a  second  journey 
by  the  same  route.  He  returned  from  this  trip,  bringing  with  him 
eight  brook-trout  weighing  respectively  S^^h,  8J+,  jli,  6>2,  6,  5^^, 
5,  5 — total,  si's  lbs.,  or  an  average  of  nearly  6 '<  lbs.  each.  William 
Cullen  Bryant,  Henry  J.  Raymond,  and  George  Wilkes  were  pre- 
23A 


II 


'■- 1): 


'A 


m 


I 


M 


W 


r'M     f 


I  :,. 


358 


Tyout-I'lshing  in  the  Raiigclcy  Lakes. 


sented  with  the  three  larj^est,  and  made  acknowledgments  duly  ni  the 
"Evening  Post,"  the  "New  York Times/'and  the-'Spiritof  theTimes." 
Then  there  broke  out  an  excitement  among  anglers  altogether  with- 
out precedent.  Scores  of  letttn-s  were  sent  to  the  papers  which  had 
presumed  to  call  these  hrook-trout, — some  of  them  interrogative, 
others  denunciator)-,  others  theoretical,  ami  others  flatly  contradict- 
ory. The  .'Xdirondacks  had  never  yielded  a  brook -trout  Vt'hich 
weighed  more  than  five  pounds,  ami  that,  therefore,  must  be  the 
standard  of  brook-trout  the  workl  over.  Hut  Mr.  Page  had  foreseen 
the  violent  skepticism  which  was  sure  to  manifest  itself,  and  had  sent 
a  seven-pounder  to  Professor  Agassiz,  who  speedily  replied  that 
these  monster  trout  were  genuine  specimens  of  the  speckled  or  brook 
trout  family,  and  that  they  were  only  found  in  large  numbers  in  the 
lakes  and  streams  at  the  head  waters  of  the  Androscoggin  River,  in 
North-western  Maine.  In  1864,  several  New  York  gentlemen 
visited  Rangtiley,  among  the  number  Messrs.  Lewis  H.  Reed,  R.  G. 
Allerton,  and  L.  T.  Lazell.  Upon  their  return,  they  fully  corrob- 
orated the  report  made  by  Mr.  Page  the  year  previous,  and 
brought  back  with  them  several  trout  which  weighed  from  three 
to  eight  pounds.  In  1867,  Mr.  Page  again  visited  Rangeley  in 
company  with  Mr.  Stanley,  and  ten  days'  fishing  by  these  two 
gentlemen  and  Mr.  F^ields,  of  Cioiham,  N.  H..  showed  these 
extraordinary    results : 


No.  ..f 
Tniul. 


\Vd);ht  of 
each  in  lli^. 


lbs. 


\„.  „f 
1  rimt. 


Weii:lit  of 
cacli  in  Ilts. 


3 

3,!; 

3'-' 

4 
4'.> 

^¥^ 
5 


7'.' 

'5 

lO"  . 

4 
9 

■s 


I 
I 

3 
3 


6'j 

7 

Di 

7'< 

7 -'4 
8 

«'4 

8',; 

83,| 

9'-- 
10 


tital  weight 
lbs. 

11^2 

30 

12)4 

7 

2I3X 
2  '*  '.'•  ► 

16 

s'H 

10 


Average,  nearly  5  lbs. 


59 


293 


Trout-Fishing  in  the  Riingclcy  Lakes. 


359 


TIIK    INri;KII)K    OF     rilK    CAMP. 


In  1868,  the  number  of  anjflers  visitinjr  the  lakes  had  so  rapidly 
increased  that  it  was  decided  to  organize  an  associ;  ion  for  the  pur- 
pose of  leasing  ground,  erecting  buildings,  and  purchasing  boats. 
Messrs.  Howies,  of  Springfield,  Mass.,  Lazell  and  Reed,  of  Brooklyn, 
N.  Y.,  George  .Shepard  Page  and  R.  (i.  Allerton,  of  New  York, 
Hon.  W.  P.  P>ye,  of  Lewiston,  Me.,  W.  .S.  Badger,  of  Augusta,  Me., 
and  T.  L.  Page,  of  New  Orleans,  who  were  all  in  adjacent  camps 
at  the  outlet  of  Rangeley  Lake,  formally  organized  the  Ocjuossoc 
Angling  Association  by  the  election  of  Mr.  (i.  S.  Page  as  president 
and  Mr.  L.  B.  Reed,  secretary.  In  the  year  following  (1869),  the 
association  purchased  the  buildings,  improvements,  and  boats 
belonging  to  C  T.  Richardson  at  the  junction  of  the  Rangeley 
and  Kennebago,  ami  imnKnliatc^ly  began  the  erection  of  Camp 
Kennebago.  Meantime,  the  membership  rapidh-  increased,  and  in 
1S70,  the  association  was  formalU'  incorporated  under  the  laws 
of  the  State  of  Maine.  The  membership  of  the  association  is 
limited  to  seventy-five.  .Shares  are  $200  each,  and  the  capital 
stock    is    $10,700,  which    is    invested    in  camp  buildings,   furniture, 


"! 


1!  '  -  '  i 


ifti 

m 


;i  ■: 


'      ''iMi 


I ' ..  > 


iil" 


%' 


• 


M  b 


ill 


^ 


Si 


4     'il  • 


c-i  !; 


360 


Tmut-l^ishiiig  in  the  Range  Icy  Lakes. 


boats,  etc.,  etc.  The  annual  ihics  are  $25.  The  cain|)  diarizes 
arc  $2  per  ila\-  for  lioard,  $1  for  hoard  of  i^iiicU-,  ami  tift)-  rents 
per  day  for  use  of  boats.  The  bi;st  j^aiitles  receive  %2  per  da\, 
making;  the  total  cost  per  ilay  while  in  camp  .$5.50,  unless  two 
persons  choose  to  fish  from  the  same  boat,  wlu'n.  ol  course  ,  the 
expense  of  i^uiile,  board  for  _L;uide,  and  hire  ol'  bo.U  ma\  be 
shared.  'I'he  fishing;  st'ason  extends  from  about  Ma\  25  to  Octo- 
ber I,  when  the  law  prohibits  the  ca[)ture  ot  trout  save  by  \vrittt:n 
permission  of  the  tlsh  commissioner  for  scientific  purposes.  Murinj.,' 
♦:he  tirst  month  antl  the  last  three  weeks  of  the  fishin}^-  season,  uuests 
are  only  admilti-d  upon  tin-  invitation  of  members,  sinci;  the  camp 
accommoilations  are  then  likel\  to  bi-  overtaxed  ;  but  betweiMi  |une' 
20  and  September  10  the  jamp  is  open  to  all  visitors  upon  the 
same  terms  as  to  membi'rs.  Lailies  ami  childri'U  are  also  admittetl 
betwc;en  the  tlales  namc:il.  A  roe.m\-  buiklinj,;  with  si-paratc  apart- 
ments is  specially  reserved  for  them,  ami  as  two  or  three  femak- 
scM'vants  are  constantlv  employi'd  in  the  camp,  they  an-  sure  to  be 
(|uite  as  comfortable  as  in   ordinarv  country   hotels. 

There  are  some  peculiar  features  in  the  arrantfemenl  of  the  camj) 
buildinj^s  which  will  be  of  interest  to  those  who  are  not  familiar  with 
such  structures.  The  main  camp  is  a  substantial  board  structure, 
100  feet  lon<4'  by  30  feet  wiile.  .\t  its  extreme  wi'sterl)-  end  is  a  well- 
equipped  kitchen,  ami  adjoinim;  it  is  a  dininj^-room.  Then  comes 
the  main  apartment,  which  is  occupied  as  a  sleeping;  and  sittinj,;- room. 
This  room  takes  the  full  width  of  the  main  buildinj.;- (.^o  feet),  is  about 
60  feet  in  lenj^th,  and  from  the  floor  to  the  <,;al)Ie  is  _^o  teet  in  the 
clear,  ij^ivino-  it  a  most  spacious  appearance  and  securiun  thorough 
ventilation.  There  are  no  jjartitions  in  this  apartment,  but  twentv- 
five  or  thirt\-  beds  ari'  ranged  alons^  its  sides,  and  at  its  extreme 
easterly  end  is  a  lari^e  open  fire-place,  around  which  the  weary 
anglers  gather  after  their  day's  sport,  ami  entertain  each  other  with 
the  rehearsal  of  their  c^xperiences  anil  exi)loits.  As  one  huge  log 
after  another  blazi^s  up, — for  the  nights  are  seldom  so  warm  that  a 
fire  is  oppressive, —  story  after  story  passes  around.  It  rarel\-  hap- 
pens that  some  one  of  the  circle  has  not  captured  a  six  or  eight 
pound  trout  during  the  day,  and  the  one  who  has  been  so  tortiuiate  is, 
of  course,  the  hero  of  the  hour.  With  what  kind  of  fly  the  fish  was 
captured,  how  long  it  took  to  land  him,  the  narrow  escape  which   the 


rwiit-l'ishin^  in  the  Raiigclcy  Lakes. 


361 


TM.I.INC     llsM  STOKIl-.S. 


lucky  anj^ltM-  had  from  losing-  his  prize  just  as  thi'  j^uitU'  was  netting- 
him,  arc  points  which  must  l)c  ri'hcarsui!  over  and  over  ayain.  Could 
one-tenth  of  the  hsh-stories  which  have;  thus  hec-n  rehearseil  around 
this  famous  old  fire-place  in  Camp  Kt  nneha^o  he  ])ut  on  record  the\ 
would  make  a  hook  whicli  wouKl  throw  far  into  the  shade  any  volume 
of  piscatorial  (experience  that  has  ever  \ct  seen  the  lis^ht.  liefore 
(^li'ven  o'clock,  the  weary  anglers  art'  all  in  their  heds,  and  tin-  camp 
sinks  into  a  silence  which  is  undisturheil  save  1)\  some  ol)slreperous 
snorer,  at  least  until  dayliylu  the  next  morning;,  when  sonn  fisher 
man  who  has  had  poor  luck  the  previous  da\  starts  out  wi.h  a  iles- 
perate  tletermination  to  retriexc  his  fortuni's  1)\-  testiiiL;'  the  \  irtue  oj 
early  fishini;'. 

A  tour  arouml  llu' uppt'r  end  of  Lake  Mooselucma^untic  discovers 
a  number  of  snugly  constructed  huildinos.  some  owned  hy  private 
parties  ami  others  hy  meml)ers<)t  the  Ani^lin^'  Association,  who  spend 
sevt;ral   weeks  consecutivelv  at   the   lake   durintj"  the   fishing  season. 


Is 


'  .  ,' 


ml 


*'i> 


1: 


'  K 


t 

h 


■''' 

'ii 

( 

i 

1 

' 

h 

ii 

:i.i> 

* , 

I"'' 

'Mr 

^: 

1? 

1 

1 

11 


t!4 


!l 
E: 


If 

' 

r 

'i- 

^' 

11 

i 

yp  1 

i 
1 

362 


Ti'oiit-I'lshing  in  the  Rangclcy  Lakes. 


Al.l.KKIn.N     I.ODCK. 


Promini'iit  among  the  latter  are  those  of  Hon.  W.  P.  Frye  at  the 
Narrows,  and  that  of  R.  G.  Allerton  at  Hiigle  Cove,  just  at  the  foot 
of  Bald  Mountain.  .Mlerton  Lodge  is  a  thoroughly  built  house,  fully 
eciuipped  with  all  the  comforts  of  civilization.  It  is  located  upon  a 
rocky  l)luff  twt-nt)  feet  or  more  above  the  level  of  the  lake,  and  com- 
mands a  magnificent  view.  Since  Bugle  Cove  is  one  of  the  best 
fishing-grounds  on  the  lake,  its  proprietor,  who  is  one  of  the  most 
enthusiastic  and  persevering  of  anglers,  never  fails  to  make  up  such  a 
score  during  his  visits  in  June  as  to  e.xcite  the  emulation  of  all  other 
visitors  during  the  rest  of  the  season. 

But  it  need  not  be  imagined  that  it  is  only  the  practiced  anglers 
who  are  successful  in  the  Rangeley  Lakes.  There  is  in  Camp  Ken- 
nebago  a  record-book  in  which  each  visitor  is  e.xpected  to  set  down 
his  score  when  he  finishes  his  stay.  This  exhibits  some  catches 
nearly  as  remarkal)le  as  that  which  has  been  set  down  before.  In 
1869,  eleven  members  of  tlie  association  in  six  days'  fishing,  besides 
a  large  number  of  smaller  fish,  captured  thirty  trout  weighing  as  fol- 
lows: three  of  4  lbs.  each;  one  4 '4  lbs.;  two  4-^4  lbs.  each;  three 
5  lbs.  each;  one  5 '4  lbs.  ;  four  5^  lbs.  each;  two  6  lbs.  each;  two 
dyi  lbs.  each  ;  two  6)4  lbs.  each  ;  two  7  lbs.  each  ;  one  7 '4  lbs.  ;  one 
■jYi    lbs.;    three   8    lbs.   each;    one    %y>    lbs.;     one    9  lbs.; — total, 


Ti'out'I'ishiug  ill  the  Raiigclcy  Lakes. 


c^^Z 


iSi  '4  ll)s.,  avrrajL,niij,r  over  ()  Ihs.  i-ach.  Tlicn  tin-  lailifs  tiiul  tlu- 
locality  a  woncUiriil  one  for  nrcal  "catchrs"  —  of  trout.  Mrs.  TIico 
clorc  l'a,!.^f  luis  takfii  s«-\(ral  \\i'i<,fliinj4  lK;t\v(i'ii  0  and  (>  Ihs.  cacli,  and 
even  the  \()iin^  folks  an;  fortunate  Masters  Marry  and  .\llic  I'ai;!', 
ajreil  respectively  ^\>  and  }^y>  years,  it  appears  from  this  record, 
durinj.,'  one  visit  cauolil  ^-^  trout  weinliini;  ,;;  lbs.  Ten  avcrat^ed 
I  lb.  each,  and  one  weij^dieil  two  li)s.  l,i;st  these  lartje  catches 
should  jirovoke  renionstranci'  ajj^ainst  sucii  wiiohisaie  shiuj^iiler  of  this 
beautiful  fish,  it  should  be  stali-d  thai  it  is  the  almost  iinariable  rule 
to  return  to  the  water  all  uninjured  trout  weii^hinj;  less  than  half  a 
pound.  ["host!  hooUeil  so  dee[)ly  that  they  cannot  live  are  kept  for 
consimiption  at  the  camp.  The  lartrer  fish,  as  soon  as  caught,  ari' 
deposited  in  the  car  which  each  boat  always  has  with  it.  I'pon  the 
return  to  camp  at  nij,dit,  the  livini^  trout  are  carifulK  transferred  to  a 
larj,H'r  car, —  which  in  this  case  is  the  name  \(\\v.\\  to  an  ordinar)-  ilry- 
jroods  bo.\  with  slats  on  the  bottom  and  sides,  admittinj;  free  pas- 
saj^H;  through  of  the  water, — and  at  the  end  of  his  sta\-  eacli  an_L;ler, 
if  he  desires  to  take  a  bo.x  of  trout  home  with  him,  selects  the  larijest 
and  releases  all  the  others,  which  spet.-dily  fmil  their  way  to  the  deep 
waters  of  the  lake  a^^ain.  Thus  the  actual  destruction  of  fish  is  by 
no  means  so  e.xtensive  as  it  would  at  first  appear  that  it  mij^ht  be. 

In  i^^eneral,  the  earl\'  spring-  tishinj;"  and  the  late  fall  tishint;-  are 
decidedly  the  best  and  most  enjoyable.  The  jjestiferous  black  flies 
do  not  appear  until  June  10,  but  their  atti-ntions  can  be  wareled  off 
by  a  liberal  application  to  all  exposed  parts  of  tlu;  neck,  lace,  ami 
hands  of  a  mixture  of  tar  and  sweet  oil  in  ecpial  parts.  Oil  of  penn\  - 
royal,  in  sutticient  ([uantity  to  make  its  otlor  plainly  perceptible,  is 
thought  b\-  many  to  render  this  |)reparation  more  effective.  15) 
September,  with  exemplary  ret,uilarily,  the  black  flies  disappear,  and 
with  them  j^oes  the  only  hinderance  to  complete'  (.'njoynient  of  out- 
door life. 

As  regards  im^thods  of  fishin.i^'.  it  need  only  be  said  that  the 
high-toned  angler  will  not  tempt  his  intendeil  victim  with  anything 
but  a  fly  at  any  season.  'Die  best  fly  fishing  is  to  be  had  in  the 
streams  in  the  spring  and  in  tiie  lake  in  the  fall.  Those.'  who  go  to 
the  lakes  in  the  spring  and  early  summer  determined  to  catch  the 
biggest  fish  at  all  hazards  must  seek  them  with  live  minnows  for 
bait,  by  still  fishing,  or  by  trolling  in  deep  water.      In  either  case,  the 


miT 


.  h 


364 


Tyoitt-l'isliin^r  in  the  Rtui^clcy  Lakes. 


law  riil':s  (Jilt  all  ^'anj4--liooks.  The  'siii^^lc  Itaitcd  lux^k  "  only  is 
p(;rmiU(,'l,  and  any  on':  infrin^^in^  u|jon  lliis  wisr  restriction  exposes 
himself  to  severe  penalties.  A  larger  hook,  with  a  liea\ieT  leader 
tiian  is  used  in  ordinary  hrofjk-trfjiit  hshinj^s  is  called  fo'-  in  these 
waters;  hut  upon  such  points  and  with  reference  to  tin;  varieties  fjf 
flies  which  ire  best  for  the  purpose.',  advic<:  may  he  had  at  any  of  th<: 
tishin^  tickle  stores,  in  jfe-neral,  howeve-r,  ;.five  ]jreference  in  makinj.( 
\onr  selecti<jn  to  the  more  suhdnerl  cfjlors,  and  do  not  jiermit  yfjur- 
self  to  he  stock'd  up  with  an  immense  variet\.  I'ive  or  six  kind.s, 
well  se-lected,  will  he  more  than  '-nou^^h  to  ;^M\e  the  fish  ample  ran^e 
for  choice. 


A."-     IXI'i.Klsll.'.'f      IV 


.  SI  I  KAI.     I'llll  OSOIMIV. 


As  I  have  already  stated,  these  hi;^'  troul.  are  raii;^lu  either  in  the 
lake  or  in  the  streams  which  fee<l  it,  accordin;.,f  to  tlu!  season;  and 
<:ach  kind  of  fishing  has  it-,  peculiar  incidents  and  surprises,  lioth 
Aennehaj^o  an<l  Kan^eley  streams  are  to'j  def|>  and  swift  to  he 
waded  in  the  orthodox  style,  althonj^di  at  certain  s<as(jns  th»,'y  are 
so  shallow  in  placets  as  to  make  their  navigation  even  l>y  hoats  of 
til.-  lijfhtest  flrafl  an  umh-rtakin;^  of  no  little  difficulty.  Ranj^eley 
Stream,  Ijetweiii  the  famous  dam  at  the  outlet  of  RantfeleN"  Lake 
and  Indian  Rock,  a  distance  of  [.erhaps  ;i  mile  and  .1  half, 
ahoiinds  in  jfools  which  the  hi^  trout  love  to  Ircfjuent.  It  is  x\uX. 
'iiiusual  for  the  more  enterjirisitiL^  fishermen  to  work  their  way  up 
Kennebago  Stream  four,  five,  or  e\(n  six  miles.       This  trip  involves 


'/'yont-/'ishiiif(  hi  the  Rdtt^c/cy  Lakes. 


365 


■iy   i.AiiKh. 


hard  labor  1>)  tin:  ^uidc  in  |>olin;^  or  in  pulling  ihc  hoal  fivcr  llu:  fre- 
quent shallows,  and  ■^Y<:;i\.  caution  is  nf.-ccssary  to  jjuard  a^^ainst  such 
a  mish.i|j  as  the-  jjcncil  of  that  enthusiastic  and  scientific  sportsman, 
l)r.  )•.  X.  Otis,  has  reproducf;d  on  the  'jpposite  pa^e,  wlnre  an  wmtx- 
p(:ct«:d  push  b\  the  j^iu'de's  pole  or  the  sudden  striking  of  the  boat's 
bow  upon  the  pebbly  bottom  sftnds  the  surprised  fisherman,  heels  over 
head,  into  the  bottom  of  his  boat,  while  his  htader  and  Hies  are  sure 
to  become  securely  hooked  in  the  loftiest  overhan^iiij,^  branch  within 
leach.  Siill,  the  (Jiscomfi')rts  of  these  (^xcursions  up  the  Kennebago 
or  Cupsuptuc  streams  are  sure  to  be  rewarded  with  sfjnie  rare  sport. 
Nor  is  th(;  fishing  in  tin:  open  lake  without  its  (occasional  sur- 
prises. I  very  well  remember  an  incident  which  happened  ujion 
the  ./ccasion  of  my  first  visit  to  (,'amp  K(;nnebaj'e,  hen  I  was  a 
tyro  in  trout  fishinj^,  and  had  not  Ix^m  fully  ini'tiat*  d  in  the  use 
of  the  fly.  .My  boat  was  at  anchor  some  distance  beiow  "  Stony 
iJatter,"  and  with  humiliation  I  confess  that  i  was  anj.^lini(  with  a 
minnow.  I'or  a  hall  hour  or  more  there;  had  bc(;n  no  si'.,fn  (if  a 
trout  i.i  my  vicinity  and  1  had  can.-lessly  laid  my  [lole  across  the 
lH;at.  with  the  biiit  imder  tife  ihv.art.  Suddenly  thenr  was  a 
"  strike."  Hefori  I  ( onld  seize  iiu'  p'^le,  the  trout  had  carried  tlv 
line  direct])  under  ili<-  boat  with  such  a  ru^h  as  l()  snap  tiie  rod  — 
which  I  ou^ht  tn  sa\.  in  justice  to  the  professifjnal  makers,  was  a 
ch'-.ij;  store  rod — into  two  or  three  pieces.  'I  he  trout  (  icaped, 
as  he  des'TV'd  to  do,  and  for  one-  I  could  not  help  cot.'fessin^ 
myself  oul^ener.il' d.  This  mishap,  (.'f  course,  put  an  end  to  my 
fishini;   lor    the   day      but   fortunalel}    it  o((urre(l   (|uite    late    in    the 


M  '  :  1 


f :    r 


366 


'rroiit-J'isliiiijr  in  tlic  Rau^rclcy  Lakes. 


li 


aftt;rnoon,  ancJ  thus  left  \w.  al  Icisiin;  to  enjoy  a  seen*;  which  was 
in  itself  sin^nilarly  heaiitiful,  and  wlii':!";  was  an  appropriate  settinjf 
for  a  strikin^f  in(  i(l(;nt.  As  tix;  sun  was  sinkin^r  hehind  the  hills, 
close  under  which  we  were  fishinj,',  it  threw  thi'ir  lotijf  shadf)ws  far 
out  on  the  lake,  while  tlie  waters  on  the  eastern  sh<jre  were  still 
brij^dit  with  the  ^^^olden  lij^dit  of  the  ^'entle  June  <:venin^f.  In  the 
distance,  we  descried  three  specks  ujjon  the  water,  which  jrradually 
^frew  in  size  as  they  steadily  approached  us,  until  we  made  out 
three  halteaux  laden  with  the  "  river-drivers,"  wlu)  were  relurninj^ 
frfjni  their  |>erilous  and  t'-dious  journey  down  tlu!  Androscoj^j^in 
with  the  f^reat  lo^-rafts, —  ih<;  results  of  the  jjrevious  winter's  lumher- 
inJ,^  The  first  sound  which  disturbed  the  Sahhath-like  stillness  of 
the  lake,  as  the  hatteaux  canu;  nearer,  was  the  steady  thump,  thump, 
thump  of  the  swe(!ps  in  the  rowlocks.  Then  we  hearti  tin;  sound 
of  voices,  liut  at  first  U)u  indistinctly  to  deternu'ne  whether  it  was 
the  echo  of  boistc^rous  talk,  cjr  some  river-driver's  sonj.j,  with  which 
the  oarsmen  were  k<;<pin^  time.  iJiit  soon  th(;  sounds,  as  tlu^y 
becamt;  linked  together,  ;^rew  into  that  j^^rand  old  tune,  "  Corona- 
lion,"  and   the  words. 


"All   hail  the  power  of  I<:siis'  n.rriicl" 


iS     f 


came  to  us  over  the  pf;aceful  wat<;rs,  sunjf  with  all  the  strenj^nh, 
steadin(;ss,  and  fervor  which  mij^dit  be  <;xpecte(l  in  a  conj^re^^ation 
of  religious  worshi|jers.  Nothinj,^  could  have  been  in  more  perfitct 
harmony  with  the  sc'ne,  and  yet  nothin^^  could  have  been  a  ^M'<;ater 
surprise  than  to  hear  this  tune,  and  the  words  with  which  it  is  so 
inseparably  onnectf'd,  (ominjf  with  such  zest  from  the  thro;its  of 
men  who  have  j^ain<:d  an  undeserved  reputation  for  rouj,din<;ss,  not 
to  say  jjrofanity,  of  spe(.ch. 

I  hiring  the  extremely  warm  weather,  ihe  trout  n.iturally  run 
deep  in  the-  lake,  since  then!  only  can  the\'  hud  the  cold  wat<;r  in 
which  they  thrive;  ;  but  even  then  the  streams  afford  L,rood  sport ; 
so  that  the  anj,der  cannot  spend  a  week  at  the  lake  during  the 
fishing  s(;ason  without  certainty  of  jrctttinj^  better  spf)rt,  and  more 
of  it,  than  can  be  found  in  any  other  resort  in  the  co.  Ury.  An 
other  fact  that  adds  j^reatl)'  to  the  pleasure  of  fishin^f  .<  t  le  Rant^a;- 
ley    Lake-)  is,    that   with   the   excejition   o(    the     land  l<;(:ked    salmon 


Iroiit- risking  in  the  Range  ley  Ijikes. 


367 


iri.Ai. 


i\      IK'il.l. 


lately  introduced,  they  contain  no  other  fish  hesidcs  the  trout  and  the 
smaller  fr.h  upon  which  he  feeds.  Of  the  latt(;r,  there  are  three 
varieties,  —  the  chiih,  the  sucker,  and  the  minnow,  or  "  rf;d  tin,  "  as 
tht;y  are  locally  termed.  All  these  exist  in  countless  numhers  in 
th«j  streums  ;iiid  at  the  outlets  of  these  streams  into  the  lake.  'liien; 
is  still  a  fourth  variety,  called  liy  the  natives  the  "Mue  hack" 
trout,  the  Sii/ii/o  OtjHossa  Tso  named  hecaiis<:  it  is  peculiar  to 
these  waters),  which  is  also  ;f(;nerally  stippi-sed  to  furnish  food  to 
the  nionarchs  of  th(-  lake.  'I'he)  com<:  in  an  immense  army, 
actually  fillin^^  tlie  an:ams  here  and  there-  with  a  dense,  slru;.;- 
^linjr  mass,  whi(h  the  natives  capture  hy  th<;  hushel  anri  by  the 
barrel  in  nets,  hu(  keis.  ;md  jjails  ;  even  scf)opini(  them  out  by  hand 
and  throwinjf  them  on  the  bank.  I  hey  are  salted  down  and  pre- 
served in  the  same  way  as  mackerel  are  cured.  Th(;se  blue-back 
trout  have  never  b(;en  found  more  than  nine  inches  in  len'^^th,  nor 
less  than  six  inches.  In  flavor,  they  are  r|uiie  as  rich  and  delicate 
when  cooked  as  the  brook  trout.  .After  spawnint(,  they  return  to  the 
lake  just  as  suddenly  as  tlx'y  appeared;  and,  not wilhstandinjr  the 
numbers  m  which  th' y  arc;  caj>tured  durin;(  their  brief  stay  in  the 
stream,  they  do  not  diminish  in  multitude  year  after  year.  It  is 
inferred  that  their  re^rnlar  haunts  must  Im-  in  tlie  deepest  vvat(;rs  of 
the  lake,  since  their  capture  by  the  etitiiemeiits  and  a|)j)lianci:s  which 
prove   irresistible   to   the   s|)e(:kled    trout    is   almost    imktiown. 

Numerous  experiments  and  continue-d  observations,  n^ade  under 
the  aus|)i(;es  of  some  c)f  the  practical  pisciculturists  belon}.nnr  to  the 
assfjciation,  havi;  devclo|j(d  results  lull  of  interest  antl  of  much  |jrac- 


1"' 


%   P 


,  * 


a 


Mi   t 


m 


,1  ] 


I  !, 


;/ 


I 


If 


1 


II 


il 


i 


I'    ;; 


H 


?jii  ;': 


II 


?  i !' 


ill 


368 


ryoiit-h'isliiiig  in  the  Rniigclvy  Lak'cs. 


tical  v;ilin\  I'or  instance,  in  reply  to  (|iK:rii;s  as  to  tlic  piohahlc  aj^c 
of  the  inaniinoth  trout  found  in  the  Ran^^fclcy  Lakes,  Professor 
Aj^assiz  eMi|)hatically  declared  that  "no  man  lixinj^  knew  whether 
these  six  and  eiwiu  poimders  were  t(;n  or  two  hundred  )-ears  old." 
To  j,fet  some  lijfht  ii[)on  this  (|uc;sti()n,  Mr.  I'aj.,fe  conceived  an 
injjjenious  device,  which  h(;  at  once  |)roc(;ede(l  to  put  in  e,\<culion. 
Platinum  wire  was  obtained,  cut  into  one  and  a  hall  inch  lenj^rlhs, 
flattened  at  one  end,  and  various  numbers  were  stamped  on  the 
surface,  from  ,'.-  to  4,  also  the  numbers  70,  71,  72,  to  (lenot<'  the 
year.  As  trout  were  captured  they  were  weij^hed,  one  of  these  laj.(s 
was  |)asse(l  through  the  skin  just  und(;r  the  adiposi;  fm  and  securely 
twisted,  and  then  the  fish  was  liberated.  In  the  course  of  the  two  or 
thre(;  y(;ars  named  a  lart^e  numb('r  of  these;  trout  w(;re  thus  labeled. 
01  course,  the  chanc(;s  that  any  of  them  would  be  cauj^rju  seemed 
inhnitesimally  small,  yet  in  i<S73  one  of  them  report(;d.  in  June  of 
that  y(;ar,  Mr.  Thomas  Moran,  th(;  artist,  captured  a  fuie,  vii^orous 
trout  weij.,diinj.;  2 '4!  lbs.  Upon  takini;  him  from  th(;  Iandinj4-iu;t,  the 
platinum  taj^  flashed  in  the  sunliijht.  I'pon  examination,  the  mark, 
''  Yi — 71,"  was  discovered,  thus  establishing  the:  curious  fact  that 
this  particular  fish  had  i(ain<-d  i  '4   lbs.  in  two  y<;ars. 

Ihe  entin;  influence  of  the  association  has  uniforndy  been  thrown 
in  favor  of  a  rij^^orous  enactment  of  the  laws  protectint,^  the  trout  in 
the  spawninj^r  season  and  rej^ulatin^  the  mode  of  c;i|)lure.  More 
than  this,  it  has  taken  the  most  active  measures  in  the  direction 
of  increasing  the  supply  of  fish  in^the  waters  to  which  il  has  acci'ss. 
Land  locked  salmon  have  be(;n  introductMl  (this  is  one  of  the  very 
few  s|)ecit:s  which  co-exist  with  the  trout),  and  a  larj^^e  numi  er  of 
the  younj^  of  the  sea  salmon  {  Saliiio  salar)  have  also  been  put  into 
the  lakes.  Last  season,  several  land  lock(jd  salmon  two  y<ars  of  aj^e;, 
and  wei}j;hin>f  half  a  pound,  were  captured.  This  y<ar  those  of  this 
same  }.rrowth  will  probably  havt;  reached  a  pounti,  and  in  the  course 
of  two  or  thn-e  ye.irs  these  fish,  which  some  anglers  rejrard  as  even 
more  "ifamey"  than  the  trout,  must  become  very  abundant. 

Some  of  the  earliest  and  most  successful  efforts  in  trout  i:ullure 
are  connected  with  the  annals  of  kanj^nley.  In  October,  1H67,  Mr. 
I'a^e  transported  two  live  trout  —  one  a  male  wei}.,diin^r  ten  ()()unds, 
the  otii(;r  a  female  weij^hint;  ei^ht  and  a  half — from  Ran^'eley  to  his 
home  in  .Stanley,   N.    |  ,  a  distance  of  nearly  five  hundred  miles.      An 


'jyo/if-/'is/i//iir  ill  the  Rdiigchy  Lakes. 


369 


Jill.   HAM   i>N    i(ani;ki  KV   smikam. 

oblont;  l)()\  of  forty  j^allons'  (;a|)acity,  lined  with  sponge  uliicli  was 
covered  with  iiiiislin,  and  liavinic  an  air-piinip  attached,  so  as  to 
niai\(;  constant  renewal  of  the  air  easy,  had  heen  carefiill)-  prenan  I. 
'liiis  i)o.\  was  carried  from  the  iiead  of  Kanj^eley  on  a  sprinL,^  waj^on 
to  I'arininijlon,  a  distance;  of  thirly-fivc:  miles,  and  thence  t)y  rail- 
road to  its  destination  in  New  Jersey.  Three  (ia\s  were  o( cupietl 
in  the  jouriKiy,  l)Mt  hy  unremitting' care  nij^dil  and  day  the  ma|L,Miifi- 
cent  lish  were  deposited  alive  in  tin;  pond  at  Stanley.  dnfor- 
tunat(dy,  the  weather  was  nniisiially  warm  lor  the  season  of  tlv 
year.  'I'he  temperature  of  the  |)ond  could  not  In;  reduced  below  O5'  , 
and  the  larger  of  tlu;  two  trout  lived  only  eit^dit  hours.  The  female 
survived  six  days  lonj^^er.  Thus  the  attempt  to  propai^^ate  Ranj^eley 
trout  in  New  |erse\-  l)\  natural  means  failed.  'I'he  lari,fer  of  these 
trout  was,  unforlunatei)-,  not  weighed  when  first  captured,  hul,  when 
dead,  balanced  the  steelyards  at  precisely  ten  pounds.  It  is  a  well- 
known  fact  that  all  lish  lose  in  wei.i,dit  after  capture,  and  Professor 
Spencer  I'".  Haird  and  I'rofessor  .Xt^assi/ both  )i;a\<.-  it  as  their  opinion 
that  wIki)  taken  this  trout  weighed  at  least  eleven  and  a  hall  pounds. 
I  le  measured  thirt\-  inches  in  leii^Mh  and  eighteen  inches  in  circum- 
ference, [lis  tail  spread  eij^dit  inches  and  his  jaws  six  and  a  hall 
inches.  lie  was  mounted  by  one  of  the  most  skillhil  taxidermists  in 
the  country,  Mr.  l)ickinson,  of  Chatham,  N.  j. 
24 


ilHfl 
i 

I.  ■ ) 


I    ,; 


i- 

: 


I' 


370 


Trout-Fishing  in  the  Rangclcy  Lakes. 


Alxjut  this  time  (1867),  Mr.  Seth  i^irecn's  attempts  to  propaj^ate 
trout  artificially  hail  Ijegun  to  attract  attention,  and,  antici|)ating  the 
possibility  of  thilure  in  transporting  the  live  trout  so  y;reat  a  distance;, 
Mr.  Pa.<re,  to  make  assurance  doubly  sure,  had  secured  30,000  trout 
eijjjl^s  which  had  been  impregnated  by  the  milt  of  the  male  in  the 
method  now  so  well  understood.  These  had  been  carefully  packed 
between  layers  of  moss,  and  immediately  upon  their  arrival  at  .Stan- 
ley were  deposited  in  the  hatchinj^-houses.  .\fter  the  usual  interval 
of  si.\  weeks,  Mr.  Page  had  the  gratification  of  seeing  the  newly 
hatched  trout.  In  due  time  they  were  fed,  and  when  they  had 
attained  a  suitable  size  were  liberated  to  stock  the  stream  below  the 
hatching-houses.  Thus  we  have  the  history  of  one  of  the  earliest 
and  perhaps  the  first  attempt  in  this  country  to  take  eggs  from  wild 
fish,  transport  them  five  hundred  miles,  and  successfuU)-  hatch  them. 

The  determination  of  the  members  of  the  0(|uossoc  Angling 
Association  fully  to  maintain  the  superiority  of  their  fishing-grounds 
is  conclusively  manifested  by  the  arrangements  for  artificial  propa- 
gation which  were  made  on  Hema  Stream,  at  the  extreme  south- 
eastern extremity  of  Lake  Mooselucmaguntic,  under  the  direction 
of  Messrs.  Page  and  L.  I..  Crounse.  Three  miles  up  Hema 
Stream,  at  the  foot  of  a  bold  mountain,  there  bursts  out  from  a 
rocky  bed  a  series  of  remarkable  springs,  which  in  the  spring 
and  fall  furnish  much  of  the  water  that  flows  down  the  rapid 
stream  to  the  lake.  The  water  of  these  springs  rarely  falls  below 
45°,  or  rises  above  49°,  and  is  therefore  peculiarly  adajjted  to  the 
propagation  of  trout.  The  smaller  trout  from  the  lake,  weighing 
two  pounds  and  under,  make  these  springs  and  the  stream  in  the 
vicinity  their  spawning-grounds,  and  in  the  montli  of  October  they 
crowd  the  waters  in  great  numbers.  Mr.  -Stanley,  wliile  securing 
fish  for  spawn,  has  actually  dipped  up  as  many  as  six  trout  of  an 
average  weight  of  a  pound  each  at  one  scoop  of  his  dip-net.  As  is 
their  habit,  the  males  always  come  up  in  ad\ance  and  clear  off  the 
beds,  and  in  a  few  days  the  female  follows.  .So  strong  is  th(;  instinct 
which  leads  them  to  the  spawning-beds  that  the  trout,  like  the  sal- 
mon, will  force  themselves  over  shallows  in  the  stream  where  there 
is  not  depth  enough  to  permit  them  to  swim.  Just  at  the  spawning- 
beds,  and  over  the  little  branch  which  carries  the  water  of  the  springs 
to  the  main  stream,  the  gentlemen  above  named  erected  a  hatching- 


'fyoiii- Fishing  in  the  Rangclcy  Lakes. 


371 


i  ■•"f'^-'  /  c 

1 

CIKl-r    ROCK. 

house.  Ill  return  for  this  privilege,  they  ntjreed  to  phice  in  the 
waters  each  season  from  50,000  to  100,000  yount^  fry,  recompensinj^ 
themselves  for  their  trouble,  if  they  could,  i)y  takint^  out  spawn  for 
use  in  other  waters.  In  the  seasons  of  nS;^  and  1S74,  they  were 
able  to  deposit  in  the  streams  more  than  the  maximum  of  spawn 
ai^reed  on.  In  1S75  and  1876,  Mr.  Stanley's  duties  as  fish  commis- 
sioner prevented  his  .i^ivinir  this  matter  the  necessary  attention  ;  hut 
the  young  fry  were  so  successfully  hatched  the  first  two  seasons  that 
a  sudden  increase  of  small  trout  has  been  noted  in  the  stream  itself 
and  as  far  up  as  the  Hema  Ponds,  four  miles  above  the  hatching- 
houses.  Some  of  the  spawn  were  successfully  transferred  to  other 
waters, — the  eggs  had  to  be  carried  out  in  December,  on  the  backs 
of  men,  nine  miles  through  the  woods, — and  Mr.  M.  H.  Porter,  the 
pisciculturist  of  Crystal  .Springs,  New  Jersey,  can  now  sliow  Range- 
ley  trout  double  the  size  of  an)'  otlu^r  vari(?ty  of  trou  c  of  the  saiue  age. 
The  method  of  capturing  trout  for  their  spawn  was  c;itlier  to  dip 
them  up  near  the  springs  with  an  ordinary  net,  as  they  came  up  to 
deposit  the  spawn,  or  to  take  large  trout  in  tlu;  lake;,  chiefly  with  the 
fly,  in  advance  of  their  ripening,  and  to  "car"  them  until  they  were 
stri|7ped,  when  they  were  restored  to  the  lake.  .\t  one  time  in  the 
fall  of  icS74,  Messrs.  .Stanley  and   1 1  ay  ford    uho  were  in  charge  of 


Jl 


ti 


V  \\ 


;  1 

■it?*!'-  < 

-'n^' 

'     ■.; 

u 

;i: 

(».         ' 

■J  1 

.1 !  i.  3  ,  ii.j 


m 


It 


m\i 


'f  !'■ 


il      • 


372 


Tyont- Fishing  in  the  Raiigelcy  Lakes. 


CATCHING    A    FIVE-POUNDER. 


the  operation,  had  in  a  large  car  at  the  mouth  of  Hema  Stream  over 
two  liundred  of  these  famous  trout  weighing  from  one  pound  to  six 
pounds  each, — a  sight  which  could  not  be  paralleled  in  any  other 
waters  in  the  world. 

The  camps  at  Bema  look  out  over  the  broad  expanse  of  the  bay 
which  opens  toward  the  north-west,  and  are  very  prettily  situated. 
The  very  remoteness  of  the  camp  secures  its  freedom  from  the  visits 
of  miscellaneous  tourists,  while  the  beauty  of  its  location  and  the 
excellent  fishing  to  be  found  in  its  immediate  neighborhood  amply 
justify  the  wisdom  shown  in  its  selection  by  the  gentlemen  who  con- 
trol it.  They  and  their  immediate  friends  here  enjoy  a  coveted 
seclusion  and  keep  clear  of  intruders  by  a  lease  of  three  miles  of  the 
shore  which  covers  the  entire  southern  end  of  Bema  Hay.  Its  posi- 
tion, however,  exposes  the  bay  in  its  front  to  the  north-west  gales 
which  prevail  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  through  the  whole  season. 
Those  who  are  accustomed  to  wait  for  the  traditional  ''fly  breeze" 
will  receive  with  incredulity  the  statement  that  the  largest  trout  have 
been  take  in  these  waters  when  a  north-west  gale  was  driving  the 
spray  from  the  white-capped  waves,  and  when  the  persevering 
angler  found  a  seat  in  the  bottom  of  his  boat  the  most  comfortable 
position  from  which  to  cast  his  fly,  if,  indeed,  the  fly  can  be  said  to 
be  "cast"  when  the  wind  carries  the  line  so  straight  from  the  rod 
that  it  is-  difficult  to  keep  the  fly  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  Yet 
the  keen-eyed  trout,  at   this  very  time,  rushes  the  most  unwarily 


Trout -Fishing  in  the  Range  ley  Lakes. 


373 


upon  his  iinaji[inary  prey.  A  sudden  splash  from  which  the  spray 
flies  in  the  face  of  the  wind  betrays  the  presence  of  one  of  these 
mammoth  trout.  If  he  misses  the  fly,  a  second  cast  almost  invari- 
ably provokes  the  fated  fish  to  a  more  eager  rush.  Rising  through 
the  topmost  curl  of  the  wave,  his  side,  brilliant  in  purple  and  gold, 


Tllr.    SPIRIT    dl'    MOOSEI.UrMAGL'NTIC. 


gleams  in  the  sunlight  for  an  instant.  Hut  this  time  he  is  fast,  and 
there  is  a  thud  as  if  a  locomotive,  under  full  headway,  had  been 
hooked.  With  a  mad  rush,  he  strikes  for  the  depths  of  the  lake,  but 
the  light  rod  yields  like  a  thing  of  life.  Whether  the  trout  weigh 
one  pound  or  eight,  the  lance-wood  or  split  bamboo  is  faithful  to  the 
trust  placed  in  it.  With  a  pertinacity  almost  human  it  clings  to  the 
frantic  fish,  steadily  drawing  him  to  the  surface  until,  after  a  contest 
which  may  have  lasted  only  ten  minutes  or  which  may  have  been 
prolonged  through  two  hours,  the  landing-net  of  the  skillful  guide 
deposits  him  in  the  boat. 

Apart  from  the  risk  of  losing  your  trout  because  of  the  difficulty 
of  landing  him  while  the  boat  is  tossing  on  the  waves,  this  fishing  in 
rough  water  has  its  perils,  which  add  to  its  excitement  if  they  do  not 
increase  its  pleasures.  One  bracing  September  morning,  I  was 
industriously  casting  my  fly  from  my  boat,  which  was  anchored  three 
or  foin-  hundred  jards  from  the  sand-spit  at  the  mouth  of  Bema 
24A 


;:i 


l!;f 


i'j' 


'?!' 


i:.  I  : 


iii: 


J 


);;:■;; 


M  "!i'  i^ 


I    i 


I    >i 


374 


'rroiit-l'ishiiig  in  the  Raiigclvy  Lakes. 


W    '\\ 


Strt-'ain.  Tlic  "Spirit  of  Moosi'lucniaj^iintic"  (an  irtiuy  which  the 
inytMuiity  of  some  of  tht;  cani|)i'rs  had  constructed  from  thi-  gnarled 
roots  which  the  waves  had  cast  up  on  the  l)each  and  worn  into 
increilibly  fantastic  shapes)  looked  upon  tile  scene  with  a  j^rin  which 
forehoiled  some  (.Hre  disaster.  M)  jrnitlc,  in  despair  at  the  determi- 
nation which  persisted  in  castinj^  a  tly  in  such  a  ^ale,  was  fishin^r 
from  the  i)ow  of  the  boat  with  a  tirop  hne.  A  sudden  exchimation 
from  him,  a  start  anil  a  sharp  twitch,  incHcated  that  he  hail  hooked  a 
large  fish.  I  turned  to  see  him  pull  a  beautiful  three-j)ouniler  over 
the  thwart,  which  he  had  depressed  to  the  level  of  the  water  to  save 
the  trouble  of  usinj,^  the  landinjii-net.  Hut  our  triumph  was  of  short 
duration.  No  sooner  had  the  victim  been  deposited  in  the  boat  than 
we  both,  in  an  instant,  found  ourselves  pitched  out  of  it  and  strug- 
glinj4'  in  the  water  of  the  lake.  Unnoticed  by  either  of  us  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  our  boat  had  swung  around  into  the 
trough  of  the  sea,  and  a  huge  wave  had  dashed  in,  completely  filling 
it,  and  tipping  it  so  nearly  over  that  as  the  water  came  in  we  went 
out.  Confident  in  my  own  swimming  powers,  I  called  to  my  guide, 
as  soon  as  I  came  to  the  surface  and  grasped  holil  of  the  boat,  that 
I  could  take  care  of  myself,  and  not  to  be  alarmed  on  my  account. 
Hut  a  desperate  series  of  flounderings  on  his  part  indicated  to  me 
what  I  had  never  before  .suspected,  that,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  he  had  been  a  guide  upon  these  waters  for  thirty  years,  he 
could  tiot  sii'i/ji  a  stroke.  His  frantic  efforts  to  insure  his  own  safety 
quickly  tipped  the  boat  bottom-side  up,  and  again  sent  us  both 
under.  When  I  came  to  the  surface,  he  was  seated  astride  of  the 
bow  in  comparative  safety,  while  the  second  submersion  had  so 
water-logged  my  hea\  y  winter  clothing  that  I  found  it  impossible  to 
do  more  than  hang  on  to  v.hatever  part  of  the  slippery  bottom  of 
the  boat  I  could  best  clutch.  Then  it  began  to  look  as  if  our 
strait  was  desperate.  The  anchor-rope  held  our  boat  with  the  same 
firmness  upon  which  we  had  before  congratulated  ourselves,  and  I 
fear  that  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  either  of  us  to  cut  it  and 
let  the  boat  drift  ashore.  Fortunatel)-,  however,  another  boat  hap- 
pened just  at  this  crisis  to  be  starting  out  upon  the  lake.  Hy  his 
vigorous  yells,  my  guide  attracted  the  attention  of  those  in  the  other 
boat,  and  in  a  few  moments  it  was  alongside.  My  guide  easily 
stepped  from  his  place  of  refuge  into  the  rescuing  boat,  nearly  upset- 


I ;  ■ ' 


ii:   r 

a.';  -      '  r , 

m;s..'k..  ■ 

Tfoiit-lnsliing  in  the  Rangclcy  Ijikcs. 


375 


tinjj  that  in  his  precipitancy,  anil  then  it  came  to  my  relief.  Mut  1 
couki  neither  lift  myself  over  its  side,  nor  could  those  who  were  in  it 
pull  nie  in  without  imminent  risk  of  capsizinj^^.  There  was  no  other 
way  hut  to  tow  me  ashort'  in^loriously.  As  soon  as  my  fi-et  struck 
bottom,  I  waded  to  the  beach,  and  then  for  the  first  time  realizeil 
how  completely  my  strenj^th  was  exhausted,  and  for  how  short  a 
time,  in  all  probability,  1  could  have  sustained  myself  in  the  perilous 
position  from  which  1  had  so  happily  escaped.  .\  blazinji^  camp-fire: 
and  a  dry  suit  of  clothes  (juickly  restored  my  eijuanimity,  which  was, 
however,  completely  destroyed  aj^ain  by  the  reflection,  which  in  an 
instant  burst  upon  me,  that  my  three  rods,  includin^f  a  new  split 
bamboo,  toj^ether  with  a  carefully  prepared  bo.x  of  fishing-tackle, 
which  contained  my  fly-books,  weri;  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake 
and  in  water  at  least  twelve  feet  ileep.  .\t  first,  it  seemed  as  if 
my  sport  for  that  trip  at  least  had  been  completely  and  disastrously 
terminated.  One  of  our  guiiles,  who  was  an  e-xpert  swimmer,  com- 
forted me  by  the  assurance  that  he  could  easily  recover  the 
more  important  articles  by  diving  for  them,  and  for  a  time  it 
appeareil  as  if  this  would  be  the  onl)'  chance,  until  it  occurred  to  us 
that  one  of  the  most  enterprisinj.f  and  injj;enious  of  our  party  had  a 
day  or  two  before  constructed  a  sijuare  box  with  a  pane  of  j^lass  in 
the  end,  with  which,  after  the  manner  of  the  sponge  and  pearl  divers, 
he  had  l)een  studyinj^r  the  bottom  of  the  lake  to  discover,  if  possible, 
the  localities  which  the  trout  were  the  most  likely  to  freepient. 
Taking  this  out  with  us  the  next  day,  wc;  found  that  the  contrix  ance 
worked  to  a  charm.  Thrusting  below  the  ripple  the  end  of  ihe  box 
which  contained  the  glass,  and  excluding  the  light  as  far  as  possible 
from  the  other  end,  every  object  on  the  bottom  of  the  lake,  at  a 
depth  of  even  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  could  be  clearly  discerned. 
A  little  patient  labor  with  this  and  a  large  landing-net  with  a 
handle  of  sufficient  length  was  finally  rewarded  with  the  recovery 
of  every  article  of  any  value.  The  fly-books,  however,  were  both 
destroyed,  and  part  of  their  contents  were  seriously  damaged  ; 
still,  these  were  trifling  offsets  to  my  own  fortunate  escape  and  that 
of  my  guide. 

An  incident  in  strong  contrast  with  this  unfortunate  beginning 
terminated  this  same  eventful  fishing  trip.  Mr.  Page,  although  the 
most  expert  and  enthusiastic  fisherman  of  our  number,  had  devoted 


i  i; 


"A  % 


i'.i 


mi! 


•,i!l 


,Ul 


I  ■¥> 


1:   -li-Jii    li^^i 


m 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0    f^ 


I.I 


1.25 


28     12.5 


m 
m 

aim 


20 


1.8 


1.4    11.6 


PhotDgraphic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 


^>l\ 
^ 


V 


v 


N> 


<h 


4^ 


6^ 


'%' 


<> 


9) 


1 


\i 

1 

i 

1 
1 

i 

'     1 

i: 

M 

'  \ 

• 

11!  1 1     i 


I 


376 


Trout -Fishing  in  the  Raugeley  Lakes. 


'  MATCHING       A    SKVKN-I'OUNIJ    TKllUT. 


himself  so  assiduously  to  carinjj^  for  the  comfort  of  his  guests  that 
his  own  chances  at  catching  the  big  trout  had  been  serously  less- 
ened. It  was  our  last  afternoon  together,  and  as  the  hours  waned 
toward  sunset,  the  surface  of  the  lake  became  as  smooth  and  as 
brilliant  as  burnished  steel.  Our  three  boats  were  anchored  within 
a  short  distance  of  each  other,  and  we  were  condoling  with  our 
friend  upon  his  lack  of  luck,  when  suddenl)-,  a  few  rods  away,  there 
was  a  tjuick  swirl  and  splash  which  told  of  the  presence  of  a  big 
fish.  "That's  my  trout !"  exclaimed  Mr.  i'age,  as  he  ordered  his 
^uide  to  haul  anchor  and  scull  him  (|uietly  over  the  s|)ot  where 
the  fisli  had'  appeared.  Two  or  three  casts  of  the  fly.  and  in  an 
instant,  with  a  ferocious  rush,  the  trout  had  hooked  himself  so 
firmly  that  his  final  capture  became  only  a  question  of  time, —  but 
of  what  a  time !  After  two  or  three  tlesperate  struggles,  during 
which  he  was  met  at  every  turn  with  the  skill  of  a  practiced  fisher- 
man, he  settled  sulkily  at  the  bottom  of  the  lake.  Meanwhile,  a 
gentle  east  wind  had  sprung  up  with  the  .setting  sun,  and  Mr.  Page's 
boat  began  to  drift  with  it  gently  to  the  westwanl.  l-'ifteen  minutes, 
half  an  hour,  three-cpiarters  of  an  hour  passed,  and  from  our  anchor- 
age we  could  see  that  the  trout  showed  no  signs  of  yielding, — nor 
did  Mr.  Page.  .\s  it  gradually  grew  too  dark  to  "  cast  "  with  satis- 
faction, my  companion  in  the  other  boat  and  myself  decidetl  to  haul 
up  anchor  and  "go  to  see  the  fun,"  which,  at  our  distance  from  the 
scene  of  conflict,  seemed  to  be  growing  decidedly  monotonous.  By 
this  time  Mr.   Page  had  drifted  fully  half  a  mile  to  the  westward, 


Troiit-Fishiug  in  the  Raugcley  Lakes, 


377 


and  not  once  had  the  trout  ^ivcn  any  sign  of  yielding.  When  we 
came  up  with  Mr.  Page  it  was  (juite  dark,  and  the  contest,  which 
did  not  seem  so  very  une(|ual  after  ail, — for  it  it  was  yet  doubtful 
which  would  get  the  best  of  it,  —  had  stretched  out  to  a  full  hour 
and  a  (juarter.  Then,  at  last,  the  trout  showed  signs  of  exhaustion, 
and,  yielding  to  the  inevitable  pressure  of  the  elastic  rod,  was  once 
brought  near  the  surface,  but  not  close  enough  to  net.  Settling 
again  to  the  bottom,  he  had  apparently  made  up  his  miml  to  stay 
there ;  but  the  gentle,  steady  persuasion  of  the  faithful  seven-ounce 
Murphy  split  bamboo  fly-rod  again  jjroveil  too  much  for  him,  anil, 
straining  his  tackle  to  the  utmost,  Mr.  I*ag(;  brought  his  victim 
gradually  toward  the  surface.  The  three  boats  had  now  come  so 
close  together  that  the  fish  was  shut  in  on  all  sides.  But  it  had 
liecome  so  dark  that  it  was  difficult  to  discern  objects  with  any 
distinctness,  and  to  shed  all  the  light  we  could   upon  the  puzzling 

problem  which  was  at  last  ap- 
^' '  proaching   solution,   we  got  to- 

gether all  the   matches  we  had 
with  us.  and  made  in  each  boat 
^  a    miniature    bonfire.      Soon    a 

commotion     upon     the     surface 
of  the  water   showed    that   the 


r%' 


^--  yj}> 


ir--.M 


mm 


^-'^  ^^ 


BRBAKINli    CAMP. 


:r:!i 


1 

1 

1 

• 

-iifi 

n     i 

378 


Trout -Fishing  in  the  Rangeley  Lakes. 


critical  moment  had  arrived.  There,  with  his  back  fin  as  erect 
as  ever,  was  a  magnificent  trout,  which  was  soon  in  the  landing- 
net,  and  in  a  moment  after  in  the  boat,  after  precisely  an  hour 
and  a  half  of  as  steady  and  persistent  a  fight  as  a  fish  ever  made 
for  life.  But  his  capture  was  a  full  reward  for  all  the  time  and 
trouble  it  had  cost,  since  he  weighed  by  the  scale  full  seven  pounds. 
This  trout  and  one  weighing  eight  pounds  which  had  been  taken 
by  Mr.  Crounse  were  among  the  magnificent  trophies  which  were 
carried  away  from  Hema  when  we  broke  camp  a  day  or  two  after- 
ward. And  the  scene  upon  that  memorahl(!  morning  was  one  to 
which  it  is  difficult  to  do  justice  with  pen  or  pencil.  There  was  the 
batteau  laden  with  all  the  camp  paraphernalia,  including  the  pet 
dog  Prince.  As  passengers,  there  were  the  two  leaders  of  the  party, 
Messrs.  Page  and  Crounse,  each  with  his  two  boys,  while  the 
guides  pulled  the  oars.  "  Dan  "  Quimby.  the  faithful  cook  and 
profound  philosopher,  whose  "corn-dodgers"  had  been  in  steady 
demand  and  in  unfailing  supply  during  the  whole  time  of  our  stay 
in  camp,  was  starting  off  for  a  ten-mile  tramp  overland  to  Madrid, 
leading  the  cow  which  he  had  brought  in  with  him  by  the  same 
route  a  month  before,  and  the  "spirit  of  Mooselucmaguntic,"  stripped 
of  its  blanket,  seemed  to  be  dancing  in  wild  glee  at  the  prospect  of 
being  left  in  undisturbed  possession  of  his  wild  domain.  Two  or  three 
of  us  remained  behind  to  catch  a  few  more  trout,  and  in  the  hope  of 
a  less  boisterous  passage  to  the  main  camp.  After  a  day  or  two  we 
followed,  taking  with  us  delightfiil  memories  of  th'j  camp  at  Hema, 
and  trout  enough  to  excite  the  envy  of  the  less  successful  anglers  at 
the  other  end  of  the  lake. 


THK    NET    RKSIILT. 


BLACK    BASS    FISHING. 


By   JAMF.S    a.    HKNSHALL, 


AUTHOR  OV   "BOOK   Hi      TIIK   III.ACK   BASS,"   Kit. 


A  GLORIOUS  morninjf  for  fishing!"  said  the  Profes.sor,  as  he 
stepped  down  from  the  broad  veranda  of  a  stately  Kentucky 
mansion,  and  out  upon  the  lawn,  dashing  the 'dew-drops  from 
the  newly  sprung  blue-grass,  as  he  leisurely  strode  along  in  his 
heavy  wading  boots. 

Professor  Silvanus  was  a  man  yet  in  the  prime  of  life,  with  a 
full  beard,  dark  gray  eyes,  and  a  tall,  powerful  frame.  .\  well- 
informed  naturalist,  a  capital  shot,  and  an  artistic  angler,  he  had 
wooed  nature  in  her  various  moods,  in  all  seasons,  and  in  many 
lands.  Facing  the  east,  he  now  stood,  clad  in  a  quiet  fishing  suit  of 
gray  tweed,  surmounted  by  a  broad-brimmed  hat  of  drab  felt,  the 
smoke  from  his  briar-root  pipe  wreathing  gracefully  above  his  head 
like  a  halo  before  it  was  borne  away  on  the  early  morning  air. 

Meanwhile,  Ignatius,  his  companion  and  disciple,  was  busily 
engaged  in  bringing  out  to  the  veranda  the  rods,  creels,  tackle- 
cases,  landing-nets,  lunch-basket,  and  other  necessaries  for  a  day's 
fishing. 

"  Luke  is  coming  with  the  wagon.  Professor,"  said  he,  as  a  well- 
groomed  span  of  bays  to  a  light  wagonette  came  dashing  around 
the  corner  of  the  house. 

After  depositing  the  various  articles  in  the  wagon,  Ignatius  took 
the  reins,  the  Professor  climbed  up  beside  him  with  the  rod-cases, 
while  the  colored  man  Luke,  with  a  sigh,  gave  up  the  ribbons  and 
took  a  back  seat. 


II 


380 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


\'- 


w\ 


The  sun  was  just  topping  the  maples  when  the  impatient  team 
went  ilasliin}>;  through  the  roail-gate. 

"The  bass  should  rise  well  to-day,"  said  the  Professor. 
"  They  are  well  through  spawning,    and  if  the   water    is    right, 
everything  else  is  propitious,"  replied   Ignatius. 

"Mighty  pertishus  for  chan'l  cats,  too,"  put  in  Luke;  "'sides 
yaller  bass  an'   green  bass,  an'   black  bass,  too ;  any  kintl  o'  bass." 

"  Professor,  how  many  kinds  of  black  bass  are  there?"  in((uired 
Ignatius,  as  he  lightly  touched  uj)  the  flank  of  the  off  horse. 

"  There  art:  but  two  species  of  black  bass,  and  they  are  as 
much  alike  as  that  span  of  horses;  but  from  the  many  different 
names  used  to  designate  them  in  different  parts  of  the  country  one 
wouKI  be  led  to  think  there  were  ntany  species." 

"  Local  fishermen  say  there  are  three  kinds  here, — black,  yellow, 
and  green  bass,"  as.serted  Ignatius. 


LAHae-Motrillll    HI.ACK    IIASS   -  MICKOI'TKRI-S    SAI.MDIDKS.      (I.A(i:l>£UK.)     [AI'TKK    a    dkawino 
I  KDM     NAIIKK     HV     l)K.    K.    K.   COI'El.ASI).  J 

"  There  are  but  two  well-defined  species,  the  large-mouthed  bass 
and  the  small-mouthed  bass,"  continued  the  Professor,  settling  him- 
self for  a  lecture.  "  There  has  been  more  confusi«»n  anil  uncertainty 
attending  the  scientific  classification  anti  nomenclature  of  the  black 
bass  than  usually  falls  to  the  lot  of  fishes,  some  do/en  generic  appel- 
lations and  nearly  fifty  specific  titles  having  been  bestowed  upon  the 
two  species  by  naturalists  since  their  first  scientific  tiescriptions  by 
Count  Lacepede  in  1S02.  Nor  has  this  polyonomous  feature 
been  confined  to  their  scientific  terminology,  for  their  vernacular 
names  have  been  as  numtTous  anil  varied  ;  thus  they  are  known 
in  different  sections  of  our  country  as  bass,  perch,  trout,  chub,  or 
salmon,  with  or  without  various  ipialifying  adjectives  descriptive  of 
color  or  habits." 


I 

tv  ^ 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


381 


nMAI.I -MOUTHICII    BLACK     BASS  —  MICROF TERUS    IIOI.OMIKU.       (I.ArftpfeDK.)       [AKTKK    A     DKAWINfi 
KKOM    NATURK    BY    l>K.    K.    K.   IciPKI.ANI).] 

"  Yes,"  assented  Ignatius,  "  I  have  heard  them  called  black  perch, 
yellow  perch,  and  jumping  perch  up  the  Rockcastle  and  Cumberland 
rivers,  and  white  and  black  trout  in  Tennessee." 

"  Kxactly,"  returned  the  Professor.  "  Much  of  the  confusion 
attending  the  common  names  of  the  black  bass  arises  from  the 
coloration  of  the  species,  which  varies  greatly,  even  in  the  same 
waters ;  thus  they  are  known  as  black,  green,  yellow,  and  spotted 
bass.  Then  they  have  received  names  somewhat  descriptive  of 
their  habitat,  as,  lake,  river,  marsh,  pond,  slough,  bayou,  moss,  grass, 
and  Oswego  b;\ss.  Other  names  have  been  conferred  on  account 
of  their  pugnacity  or  voracity,  as  tiger,  bull,  sow,  and  buck  bass. 
In  the  Southern  States  they  are  universally  known  as  'trout.'  in 
portions  of  Virginia  they  are  called  chub,  southern  chub,  or  Roanoke 
chub.  In  North  and  South  Carolina  they  are  variously  known  as 
trout,  trout-perch,  or  Welshman ;  indeed,  the  large-mouthed  bass 
received  its  first  scientific  specific  name  from  a  drawing  and  descrip- 
tion of  a  Carolina  basjs  sent  to  Lacepede,  under  the  local  name  of 
trout,  or  trout-perch,  who  accordingly  named  it  salmoidcs,  meaning 
trout-like,  or  salmon -like." 

"  How  do  you  account  for  the  ridiculous  practice  of  applying 
such  names  as  trout  and  salmon  to  a  spiny-finned  fish  of  the  order 
of  perches?"  asked  Ignatius. 

"  They  were  first  given,  I  think,  by  the  early  luiglish  settlers 
of  V^irginia  and  the  Carolinas,  who,  finding  the  bass  a  game  fish  of 
high  degree,  naturally  gave  it  the  names  of  those  game  fishes  par 
excellence  of  England,  when  they  found  that  neither  the  salmon  nor 
the  troui  inhabited  southern  waters.     In  the  same  way  the  mis- 


1: 


M 


mi 


lii 


I 


i  I 


''  i 

t 

A 

Ul  . 

Hr'' 
Iff 

1 

382 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


nomers  of  quail,  partridge,  pheasant,  and  rabbit  iiave  been  applied, 
there  being  no  true  species  of  any  of  these  indigenous  to  America." 

"Then,  I  should  say  the  names  are  a  virtual  acknowledgment 
that  they  considered  the  black  bass  the  peer  of  either  the  trout  or 
salmon  as  a  game  fish,"  said  Ignatius. 

"  As  an  old  salmon  and  trout  fisher,"  replied  the  Professor.  "  I 
consider  the  black  bass,  all  things  being  e(|ual.  the  gamiest  fish  that 
swims.  Of  course,  1  mean  as  compared  to  fish  of  equal  weight,  and 
when  fished  for  with  the  same  tackle,  for  it  would  be  folly  to  compare 
a  three-pound  bass  to  a  twenty-pound  salmon." 

"The  long  list  of  local  names  applied  to  the  black  bass,"  resumed 
the  Professor,  "  is  owing  chiefly  to  its  remarkably  wide  geographical 
range ;  for  while  it  is  peculiarly  an  American  fish,  the  original 
habitat  of  one  or  other  of  its  forms  embraces  the  hydrographic  basins 
of  the  great  lakes,  the  St.  Lawrence,  Mississippi,  and  Rio  Grande 
rivers,  and  the  entire  water-shed  of  the  .South  Atlantic  States  from 
Virginia  to  Florida :  or.  in  other  words,  portions  of  Canada  and 
Mexico,  and  the  whole  United  States  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
except  New  England  and  the  sea-l)oard  of  the  Middle  .States.  Of 
late  years,  it  has  been  introduced  into  these  latter  States,  into  the 
Pacific  slope,  England,  and  Germany.." 

Reaching  the  summit  of  a  hill  after  a  long  but  gentle  ascent,  the 
river  was  disclosed  to  the  view  of  the  expectant  anglers.  At  the  foot 
of  the  descent  was  an  old  covered  bridge  which  spanned  a  somewhat 
narrow  but  beautiful  stream,  winding  in  graceful  curves  among  green 
hills  and  broad  meadows.  The  ripples,  or  "  riffles."  sparkled  and 
flashed  as  they  reflected  the  rays  of  the  bright  morning  sun,  while 
the  blue  and  white  and  gray  of  the  ,  ky  and  clouds  were  revealed  in 
the  still  reaches  and  quiet  pools  as  in  a  mirror..  Driving  through  the 
time-worn  and  old-fashioned  bridge  with  its  quaint  echoes,  our 
friends  left  the  turnpike  and  proceeded  down  a  narrow  road,  follow- 
ing the  course  of  the  river  to  a  small  grove  of  gigantic  elms,  beeches, 
and  sycamores,  where  a  merry  little  creek  mingled  its  limpid  waters 
with  the  larger,  but  more  pellucid,  stream. 

While  Luke  unharnessed  the  horses  and  haltered  them  to  the 
low  limb  of  a  beech,  the  Professor  and  Ignatius  went  up  the  creek, 
with  the  minnow-seine  and  bucket,  and  soon  secured  a  supply  of 
chubs  and  shiners  for  bait.     The  Professor  then  took  from  its  case 


Black  Bass  Wishing. 


383 


NRAR    THE    KIVEK. 


and  put  tojjether  a  willowy  and  well-made  split  bamboo  fly-rod, 
eleven  feet  lonjf.  and  weijrhinjr  just  eijjht  ounces.  Adjustinjj;  a  liylu, 
German-silver  click  reel,  holdinjf  thirty  yards  of  waterproofed  and 
polished  fly-line  of  braided  silk,  to  the  reel-seat  at  the  extreme  butt 
of  the  rod.  he  rove  the  line  throuj^h  the  jifuitle-riny^s,  and  made  fast 
to  it  a  silkworm-j^ut  leader  six  feet  in  length,  to  the  end  of  which  he 
looped,  for  a  stretcher  or  tail  fly,  what  is  known,  technically,  as  the 
"  polka,"  with  scarlet  body,  red  hackle,  brown  and  white  tail,  and 
winjj^s  of  the  spotted  feathers  of  the  guin'ja-fowl  ;  three  feet  above 
this,  he  looped  on  for  dropper  or  bob  fly,  a  "  Lord  Baltimore,"  with 
orange  body,  black  wings,  hackle  and  tail,  and  upper  wings  of 
jimgle-cock.  both  very  killing  flies,  and  a  cast  admirably  suited  to 
the  state  of  the  water  and  atmosphere, 

Meanwhile,  Ignatius,  who  was  a  bait-fisher,  jointed  up  an  ash  and 
lance-wood  rod  of  the  same  weight  as  the  Professor's,  but  only  eight 
and  a  quarter  feet  in  length,  and  withal  somewhat  stifier  and  more 
springy.  He  then  afiixed  a  fine  multiplying  reel,  holding  fifty  yards 
of  the  smallest  braided  silk  line,  to  which,  after  reeving  through  the 
rod-guides,  he  attached  a  sproat  hook,  No.  i  Yi,  with  a  gut  snell  eight 
inches  long,  but  without  swivel  or  sinker,  for  he  intended  fishing  the 
"riffles,"  which  is  surface  fishing  principally. 

.Slinging  their  creels  and  landing-nets,  they  were  about  to  depart, 
when  Luke  spoke  up  : 


384 


Black  Bass  I'ishiiig. 


' 


LUKK. 


!fJ*( 


:('f 


r>t: 


i 


"  Mars'  Nash,  will  you  please,  sail,  j^il)  me  one  ol)  clem  sproach 
hooks  I  hcercl  you  all  talkin'  'bout  las'  nij^ht ;  mehbe  so  I'll  hanj^;  a 
l)i}^  chan'l  cat  wile  you're  jfone." 

Ij^natius,  who  was  fasteninj^  the  strap  ol"  a  small,  oliloiij^,  four- 
quart  minnow- bucket  to  his  belt,  j^ave  him  several  large-sized  sproat 
hooks,  sayinjf : 

"There,  Luke,  you  will  not  fail  to  hook  him  with  one  of  these, 
anil  the  Professor  will  jLjuarantee  it  to  hold  any  fish  in  the  river." 

"  Ri^ht,"  afifirmed  he  ;  "the  sproat  is  the  hook  beyond  compare, 
the  //<■  plus  ultra,  the  perfection  of  fish-hooks  in  shank,  bend,  barb, 
and  point." 


Hliuk  Bliss  /•'is/ling. 


385 


VVhih"  tlu-  I'roffssor  ami  l}rnatius  proccTilt'cl  down  the  rivt.'r,  Luke 
rijjji;eil  up  a  stout  line  the  Uinj^'th  of  his  l)ijr  cane  pole,  a  large  retl  ami 
green  float,  a  heavy  sinker,  ami  one  ol  the  No.  ,?-o  sprtiat  hooks. 
Hv.  then  turneil  over  the  stones  in  the  creek  until  he  obtained  a  do/en 
large  craw-fish.  which  were  al)out  to  sheil  their  outer  cases,  or  shells, 
and  which  lor  this  reason  are  calU-d  "sheilders,"  or  "  pei!lers." 

"  Now.  den,"  said  he.  "  we'll  see  who'll  ketch  de  mos'  fish. 
Umph  !  I  wunder  wat  ile  'I-'essor  do  if  he  hang  a  l»ig  chan'l  cat 
wid  dat  little  pole  !  " 

He  then  baited  his  hook  with  a  "soft  craw,"  seated  himself  on  a 
log  at  the  edge  of  a  deep  pool,  or  "cat-hole,"  and  began  fishing. 

The  Professor  and  Ignatius  took  their  way  down-stream  a  short 
distance  to  where  a  submerged  ledgtr  of  rocks  ran  nearly  across  the 
river,  some  two  feet  below  the  surface  and  about  ten  feet  in  width. 
The  line  of  rock  was  shelving,  or  hollow  umlerneath  on  the  up-river 
side,  the  water  being  somi;  si.s  fi;et  deep  just  under  ami  above  it, 
but  shoaling  gradually  up-siream.  The  ledge  was  surmounted  on 
its  lower  etige  by  a  line  of  loose  rocks  which  croppetl  up  nearly  to  the 
surface,  |)r(Hlucing  a  rapid,  or  riffle.  ( )n  the  opposite  side  of  the 
stream  the  bank  was  quite  high  and  steep,  forming  a  rocky,  wooded 
cliff,  where  the  snowy  dogwood  blossoms  and  the  pink  lassi-ls  of 
the  redbud  lit  up  the  dark  mass  of  foliage  which  was  yi-t  in  shadow; 
for  the  sun  was  just  peeping  curiously  over  the  top  of  the  cliff, 
and  shining  full  in  their  faces  —  for  prudent  anglers  always  fish 
toward  the  sun.   so  that  th<.'ir  shadows  are  cast  behind  them. 

"Now,"  said  the  Professor,  as  he  wadeil  out  into  the  stream 
some  fifty  fet!t  above  thi:  rocky  leilge,  "tlu-  bass  have  left  the  cool 
depths  beside  th«;  rock  and  are  on  the  riffle,  or  just  below  it.  en- 
joying the  welcome  ra)s  of  the  sun  while  wailing  for  a  stray  min- 
now or  craw-fish  for  breakfast.      I'll  drop  iheiu  a  line." 

.So  saying,  he  began  casting,  lengthening  his  line  at  each  cast, 
—  the  line,  leader,  and  flies  following  the  impulse  of  the  flexible  rod 
in  gracefid  curves,  now  projected  forward,  now  unfolding  behind 
him. — until  the  flies,  almost  touching  the  water  full  seventy  feet  in 
his  rear,  were,  by  a  slight  turn  of  the  wrist  and  fore-arm  and  ap- 
parently without  an  effort,  cast  a  like  distance  in  front,  where  they 
dropped  gently  and  without  the  least  sjjlash  just  on  the  lower 
edge  of  the  rift.      Immediately  the  swirl  of  a  bass  was  seen  near 


386 


Hliuk  Bass  lushing. 


SiV^ 


tht;  ilroppcr-rty  ;  the  Professor  struck  li};htly.  Imt  miss«.'tl  it,  for  he 
was  taki'U  soiuc-what  unawares  aiul  failed  to  strike  (juickly  enoii}i;h. 
I'hrowinjf  his  line  hehinil  him,  he  nuule  another  cast,  the  flies 
ilro|)|)inj,',  if  possible,  more  lij,'htly  than  before,  ami  with  a  some- 
what straij^hter  and   tighter  line. 

"  I  have  him  ! "  he  e.\claimetl,  as  a  bass  ros(;  and  siia|)|H'd  tiie 
stretcher  fly  before  it  fully  settled  on  the  water,  "lie  hookeil 
himself  that  time,  the  line  beinj.,^  jjerfectly  taut,  lie's  not  a  lar<.(e 
one,  thoujfh  he  jrives  ^ood  play.  "  he  continued,  as  lu-  took  the 
rod  in  his  left  hand  and  applied  his  k\\^\\.  to  the  r«'el.  the  bass, 
in  the  meantime,  havinj^f  headed  ii|)-stri;am  to  the  deeper  water 
beside  the  rock. 

".No,  no,  my  fine  fellow,  that  will  never  do,"  said  he,  as  he  l)rouj.,'ht 
the  full  strain  of  the  fish  on  llu;  roil  by  turninj.^  the  latter  over 
his  shoulder  and  advancin}.(  the  butt  toward  the-  stru^i,dinj,'  bass, 
which  hail  nuule  a  desperate  and  (|uick  dash  to  Lfet  uniler  the 
rock  when  he  fouml  himself  in  deep  water.  This  "  },dvinj.f  the 
butt,"  as  it  is  technically  termed,  brou,i,dit  him  to  the  surface  aj^^ain, 
when  he  instantly  chanj^^ed  his  tactics  by  sprin^^inj;  two  feet  into 
the  air,  shaking  his  head  violently  in  the  enileavor  to  ilislodjjje  the 
hook,  and  as  he  fell  back  with  a  loud  splash  he  dropjjed  upon  the 
lint.',  by  which  maneuver  he  would  have  succeeded  in  tearinij  out 
the  hook  had  the  line  still  been  taut;  but  the  I'rofissor  was 
pe-rfectly  familiar  with  this  trick,  anil  had  slackened  the  line  by 
lowerinj^r  the  tip  of  the  rod  as  thi:  bass  fell  back,  but  instantly 
resumed  its  tension  by  aj^ain  raisini.,^  the  tip  when  the  t'lsh  rej^ained 
his  element.  As  the  Professor  slowly  reeleil  the  line,  the  bass 
dashed  hither  and  yon  at  the  end  of  his  tether,  but  all  the  time 
workinjj;  up-streani  and  toward  the  rod.  Ihi-n  lu;  was  suddenly 
seized  by  an  impulse  to  make  for  the  bottom,  to  hide  under  a  rock, 
or  mayhap  ilislod'L,fe  the  barb  or  foul  the  line  by  nosinjf  against  a 
stone  or  snaj^ — but  not  to  sulk  ;  for  be  it  known  a  black  bass 
never  sulks,  as  the  salmon  does,  by  settlinjj^  motionless  and  stub- 
bornly on  the  bottom  when  he  finds  his  efforts  to  escape  are 
foileil.  The  bass  resists  anil  strujj[.i;les  to  the  last  j,^asp,  unless 
he  can  wedjj^e  him.self  beneath  a  rock  or  amony;  the  weeds,  where 
he  will  work  the  hook  out  at  his  leisure.  The  Professor,  keepinj^ 
the  line  constantly  taut  and  the  rod  well  up,   thereby  maintaining 


TlIK    I'ROKKSSOR     I.AMUXC    ,\     l«)l?HI,K. 


(IIKAWN     BY    J.    II.   roiKS.) 


n 


I    » 


r 

1" 

m  ' ' 

eIMi 

■I 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


389 


a  springy  arch,  soon  reeled  the  bass  within  a  few  feet,  when  he  put 
the  landing-net  under  him.     Then  addressing  Ignatius,  he  said  : 

"  The  humane  angler  always  kills  his  fish  as  soon  as  caught 
by  severing  the  spinal  cord  at  the  neck  with  a  sharp-pointed 
knife,  by  breaking  the  neck,  or  by  a  smart  blow  on  the  head. 
Then  raising  the  gill-cover,  he  bleeds  the  fish  by  puncturing  a 
large  venous  sinus,  which  shows  as  a  dark  space  nearly  opposite 
the  pectoral  fin.  Killing  and  bleeding  a  fish  is  not  only  a  merciful 
act,  but  it  enhances  its  value  for  the  table,  rendering  the  flesh 
firmer,  sweeter,  and  of  better  color." 

Ignatius  was  capable  of  admiring  the  Professor's  humanity,  but  he 
was  most  attracted  by  his  wonderful  skill.  His  grace  and  deliber- 
ation, though  natural  and  inborn  to  a  certain  degree,  were  chiefly 
the  result  of  many  years'  devotion  to  the  rod  and  gun  and  the  prac- 
tical study  of  the  habits  of  fish  and  game.  There  is  more  symmetry 
of  form  and  natural  grace  of  motion  among  the  aboriginal  races  of 
the  world,  trained  to  the  pursuit  of  animals  on  land  and  water  from 
childhood,  than  among  the  civilized  and  enlightened  ;  our  brains  are 
developed  and  fostered  at  the  expense  of  our  bodies ;  therefore,  the 
nervous,  jerky,  impatient,  and  impetuous  man  will  never  make  a 
truly  successful  angler  nor  a  really  good  shot,  though  he  njay  attain 
to  a  certain  mediocrity  in  both  sports.  ' 

At  the  next  cast  the  Professor  fastened  a  two-pound  bass  to  the 
"  polka,"  and  while  giving  him  play  another  bass  of  the  same  weight 
took  the  "  Lord  Baltimore. "  As  these  fish  kept  down -stream,  the 
full  force  of  the  current  was  an  additional  factor  of  resistance  to  the 
rod,  which  seemed  to  Ignatius  to  bend  nearly  double,  and  caused 
him  to  say : 

"You  will  have  a  hard  time  to  land  them  both,  Professor!" 

"  Not  necessarily,  for  although  the  wei-^ht  is  greater,  they,  to- 
gether, will  not  play  much  longer  than  a  single  fish,  if  so  long;  for 
they  are  pulling  against  each  other.  It  only  remains  for  me  to  hold 
them  by  the  spring  of  the  rod  and  let  them  fight  it  out." 

His  method  of  landing  them  was  unicjue  :  Holding  the  net  a  few 
inches  beneath  the  surface,  he  first  drew  in  the  bass  on  the  stretcher- 
fly;  then,  as  he  turned  up  the  lower  or  down-river  half  of  the  net-rim 
to  the  surface,  he  let  the  bass  on  the  bob-fly  drop  back  with  the 
current  into  it,  and  lifted  out  both. 
25A 


i 


4 


11 


i 


390 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


I     ! 


;;  i  M^ 


Ignatius  proceeded  farther  out  into  the  stream,  but  parallel  with 
the  shelving  rock.  Then  selecting  a  minnow  four  inches  long,  he 
passed  the  hook  through  the  lower  lip  and  out  at  the  nostril.  Reel- 
ing up  his  line  to  the  snell  of  the  hook,  and  with  his  thumb  on  the 
spool  of  the  reel,  he  turned  his  left  side  to  the  riffle  below  ;  then 
swinging  his  rod  to  the  right,  the  minnow  nearly  touching  the  water, 
he  made  a  sweeping  cast  from  right  to  left  and  from  below  upward, 
starting  the  minnow  on  its  flight  just  before  the  tip  of  the  rod  reached 
its  greatest  elevation,  by  relaxing  somewhat  the  pressure  of  his 
thumb  on  the  spool,  but  still  maintaining  a  certain  light  and  uniform 
pressure  to  prevent  the  reel  from  back-lashing  and  the  line  from 
overrunning  :  the  minnow  was  neatly  cast,  in  this  way,  some  seventy- 
five  feet,  and  just  beyond  the  riffle.  Then  he  reeled  slowly,  keeping 
the  minnow  near  the  surface  (there  being  no  sinker),  and  just  as  it 
was  passing  through  the  broken  water  of  the  riflle,  a  bass  seized  it 
on  the  run  and  continued  his  rush  up-stream  toward  deep  water. 
Ignatius  reeled  his  line  rapidly  until  he  felt  the  weight  o{  the  fish, 
which  then  ga\e  a  short  tug  or  two,  when  he  was  allowed  to  take  a 
few  feet  of  line,  though  grudgingly  and  sparingly,  so  as  to  keep  it 
taut.  Ignatius  then,  feeling  the  bass  pull  steadily  and  strongly, 
drove  in  the  steel  by  a  simple  turning  over  of  the  roil-hand,  while 
drawing  firmly  on  the  line ;   this  set  the  hook. 

The  bass  continued  his  race  by  swimming  rapidly  between 
Ignatius  and  the  shore  and  then  up  the  river,  describing  a  half 
circle,  the  line  being  the  radius.  The  bass,  finding  his  progress  thus 
stayed,  sprang  clear  of  the  water  several  times  in  (|uick  succession  ; 
but  Ignatius,  instead  of  slackening  the  line,  skillfully  turned  the  bass 
over  in  the  air  by  a  slightly  increased  tension  as  it  left  the  water, 
thus  preventing,  by  another  method,  his  falling  across  the  taut  line. 
This  latter  mode  requires  more  adroitness  than  the  plan  used  by  the 
Professor,  of  lowering  the  tip  of  the  roil  to  slacken  the  line  as  the  fish 
falls  back,  but  it  can  be  more  successfully  and  safely  accomplished 
witii  the  shorter  and  stiffer  minnow-rod  than  with  the  fly-rod.  The 
bass  was  sooner  exhausted  and  brought  to  creel  than  if  he  had  been 
down-stream,  not  having  the  strength  of  the  current  to  aid  him. 

"That  is  the  best  fish  yet  taken,  Ignatius,"  said  the  Professor; 
"  he  will  scale  fully  three  pounds,  and  you  landed  him  in  two  minutes." 

"  One  should  hold  hard  and  kill  quick." 


w  -.u 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


391 


AN     IDKAI.   "  STIl.l.    I  ISIIKK. 


"With  a  (|iialificati()n  as  to  the  rod,  that  is  the  true  princij^le," 
returned  the  Professor.  "  With  a  properly  made,  Hji^ht,  antl  flexible 
rod,  yes  ;  with  a  bean-pole,  no.  With  a  well  balanced,  supple  rod 
of  eight  ounces,  a  pound  bass,  even  in  swift  water,  can  be  easily 
killed  in  a  minute,  and  one  of  five  pounds  in  five  minutes." 

The  Professor  anil  Ignatius,  having  each  taken  a  dozen  ba.ss, 
reeled  up  their  lines  and  retraced  their  ste|)s  toward  the  wagon 
for  luncheon.  Turning  a  bend  in  the  river,  they  came  in  sight 
of  Luke,  still  sitting  on  the  log  with  a  firm  hold  on  the  rod,  but 
sound  asleep. 

"  Hehold  the  ideal  still-fisher!"  observed  the  Professor. 


392 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


Suddenly  the  float  disappeared,  the  point  of  the  rod  was  violently 
pulled  into  the  water,  and  Luke,  awakening,  took  in  the  situation, 
and  with  a  savage  jerk,  struck  a  large  fish  which  threatened  to  pull 
him  from  his  perch.  Indeed,  he  was  forced  to  follow  it  into  the 
water  to  save  his  tackle. 

Luke,  seeing  them  approaching,  cried  out  appealingly : 

"  Wat  1  gwine  to  do  wid  dis  fish  ?" 

"  Keep  your  pole  up,  and  lead  him  out  to  the  shallow  water." 

Finally,  after  a  few  minutes  more  of  great  effort,  and  much 
floundering  of  the  fish,  he  succeeded  in  getting  the  fish  into  shallow 
water,  and  drew  it  out  on  the  shore,  a  channel  cat-fish,  weighing  fully 
ten  pounds. 

"  I  got  de  boss  green  bass,  too,  Mars'  Nash,"  said  he,  as  he  drew 
his  fish-string  out  of  the  water  and  c'isplayed  a  large-mouthed  bass 
of  four  pounds. 

".And  the  only  large-mouthed  bass  caught  this  morning,"  said 
the  Professor.  "  Now,  Ignatius,"  he  continued,  "lay  it  side  by  side 
with  your  heaviest  small-mouthed  bass,  and  you  will  readily  see  the 
principal  points  of  difference.  In  the  first  place,  Luke's  fish  is  more 
robust,  or  'chunkier,'  yours  being  more  shapely  and  lengthy.  Then 
Luke's  bass  has  much  the  larger  mouth,  its  angle  reaching  consider- 
ably beyond  or  behind  the  eye,  while  in  yours  it  scarcely  reaches 
the  middle  of  the  eye ;  thus  it  is  they  are  called  large  and  .small- 
mouthed  bass.  Then  the  scales  of  Luke's  fish  are  much  larger  than 
those  of  yours,  for  if  you  count  them  along  the  lateral  line  you  will 
find  only  about  si.xty-five  scales  from  the  head  to  the  minute  scales 
at  the  base  of  the  caudal  !"n,  while  there  are  iibout  seventy-five  on 
either  of  your  small-mouthed  bass.  You  also  observe  that  the  .scales 
on  the  cheeks  of  Luke's  fish  are  not  much  smaller  than  those  on  its 
sides,  while  on  your  fish  the  cheek  scales  are  quite  minute  as 
compared  with  those  on  its  body. 

".\s  for  Luke's  big-mouthed  bass,"  continued  the  Professor, 
"I've  taken  them  in  Florida  weighing  about  fourteen  pounds.  I 
used  a  ten-ounce  rod  for  those  big  fellows;  I  could  have  killed  them 
with  this  little  rod  by  taking  more  time  and  muscle,  and  uselessly 
prolonging  the  struggles  of  the  fish,  but  1  deem  that  unsportsmanlike." 

"  I've  heard."  said  Ignatius,  "  that  most  of  the  I'lorida  bass  are 
taken  with  the  hand-line  and  trolling-spoon." 


^.....oNHMM 


S5B 


Black  Bass  Fishing. 


393 


"  That  is  the  way  most  Northern  tourists  usually  take  them,  be- 
cause they  don't  know  how  to  handle  a  rod  ;  and  then,  the  necessary 
tackle  for  hand-troUinjj;  can  be  carried  in  the  pocket.  It  is  the  sim- 
plest mode  of  angling,  if  it  can  be  dignified  by  that  name,  for  it  is 
more  suggestive  of  meat,  or  'pot,'  than  sport.  The  pseudo-angler 
sits  in  the  stern  of  a  boat  with  a  stout  line,  nearly  the  size  of  an 
ordinary  lead-pencil  and  about  seventy -five  yards  long,  to  the  end 
of  which  is  attached  a  spoon-bait  or  trolling-spoon,  with  one  or  two 
small  swivels.  When  the  boatman  rows  the  boat  slowly  and  (|uietly 
along  the  trolling-spoon.  revolving  swiftly  beneath  the  surface  at  the 
end  of  fifty  yards  of  line,  glittering  and  flashing  in  the  sunlight, 
is  eagerly  seized  by  the  bass  as  it  passes  near  his  lair,  when  one 
or  more  of  the  hooks  attached  to  the  spoon  are  fixed  in  his  jaws. 
While  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  excitement  in  hauling  in  the 
struggling  bass  by  '  main  strength  and  stupidity,'  as  the  mule  pulls, 
there  is  not  the  faintest  resemblance  to  sport,  for  there  is  no  skill 
required  in  the  manipulation  of  the  line  or  bait  or  in  handling  the 
fish  when  hooked." 

"  Do  they  troll  with  the  hand-line,  too?"  asked  Ignatius. 

"  Not  many  of  them  ;  they  use  a  long  rod  or  pole  for  still- 
fishing,  skittering,  and  bobbing." 

"  W^hat  are  skittering  and  bobbing?" 

"  Bobbing  has  been  )racticed  in  Morida  for  more  than  a  century, 
and  is  a  very  simple  but  remarkably  'killing'  method  of  fishing. 
The  tackle  consists  of  a  long  cane  or  wooden  rod.  two  or  three 
feet  of  stout  line,  and  the  'bob,'  which  is  formed  by  tying  three 
hooks  together,  back  to  back,  and  covering  their  shanks  with 
a  portion  of  a  deer's  tail,  somewhat  on  the  order  of  a  colossal  hackle- 
fly;  strips  of  red  flannel  or  red  feathers  are  sometimes  added; 
all  together  forming  a  kind  of  tassel,  with  the  points  of  the  hooks 
projecting  at  equal  distances.  The  man  using  the  bob  is  seated  in 
the  bow  of  a  boat,  which  the  boatman  poles  or  paddles  silently  and 
slowly  along  the  borders  of  the  stream  or  lake,  when  th(;  fislur, 
holding  the  long  rod  in  front  of  him,  so  that  the  bob  is  a  few  inches 
above  the  surface,  allows  it  to  dip  or  'bob'  at  fre(|uent  intervals  in 
the  water,  among  the  lily-|iads.  deer-tongue,  and  other  a(|uatic 
plants  that  grow  so  luxuriantly  in  that  sub-tropical  region.  The 
bass   fre(|uently  jumps    clear  of   the   water    to   grab   the    bob,    but 


i'l.i; 


m  . 

■^     ; 
If '. 


li! 


i 


!  I 


\'-' 


1   ii 


394 


Black  Bass  I'ishing. 


usually  takes  it  when  it  is  tlipiu-cl  or  trailed  on  the  surface.  Deer 
hair  is  very  buoyant,  anil  the  i|ueer-lookin}.j  bob  seems  like  a  hutje. 
sj^rotes(|ue  insect,  tlyinj;  or  skimminjf  alonj^  the  clear,  still  waters. 

"  Skitt.erinj,r."  continueil  the  Professor,  "is  practiceil  with  a 
sirons^  line  about  the  leuLjth  of  the  nnl.  to  which  is  affixed  a  small 
lrollin!4-s|)oon,  a  minnow,  or  a  pit  ct-  of  pork-riml  cut  in  the  ruile 
semblance  of  a  small  fish.  The  boat  is  |)oled  alonj^,  as  in  •  bobbin^;, 
but  farther  out  in  the  stri-am.  when  the  an;.4ler,  stanilin^  in  tin-  bow, 
'skitti!rs'  or  skips  the  spoon  or  bail  over  tlu-  surface  just  at  the  cdi^i 
of  tin-  w'«'eils.  Skittirinjr  is  a  more  IcL^itimate  methoil  of  an^Mint; 
than  bobbinj^",  for  with  the  loni^a-r  line  the  bass  ^ives  consiiliTabU- 
play  before  he  can  be  taken  into  the  boat  ;  ami  as  this  manner  of 
fishing'  is  usually  done  in  sliallow  waters  abounding;  in  moss,  ^rass, 
and  uceils,  the  fish    must  be  kept  on  the  surfac*'  and   landed  (|iiitk!\. 

•'  Ij^natius,  \-ou  should  become  a  (1\  -tisher,"  atlded  the  Professor. 
'•  \'our  style  of  bait-fishino-  is  admirabU  suitt'd  to  the  Xortlu'rn  laki's 
anil  the  deep  rivers,  where,  indeed,  it  is  the  faxoriti-  method  with 
the  best  an_!.;lers,  thou.nh  a  small  swivel  or  sinker  is  necessary  to 
keep  the  minnow  beneath  the  surface.  Hut  on  such  a  charminn', 
rapid,  and  romantic  rivi-r  as  this,  the  artificial  tly  aloni'  should  be 
used.  This  afternoon,  when  the  sun  is  low  in  the  west,  bass  will 
a^ain  rise  to  the  tl\,  and  if  xou  like  we  will  try    ,iem  attain." 

And  now,  while  the  Professor  and  lL,niatius  are  talking  of  other 
matti-rs  over  their  pipes,  we  will  conclude  by  wi.shinyj  "  j^ooil  luck" 
to  the  entire  fraternity  of  anglers,  from  him  of  the  ;esthetic  fly  to  him 
of  the  humble  worm,  but  with  a  mental  reservation  as  to  him  of  the 
hand  line  and  spoon. 


;^i  I 


1 

! 

H-- 

\s 

;l^ 


^tr:^^^— ^ 


i':,i 


l)       , 


1  .,< 


•i; 


w 


I! 

Ill  I 


IN   THH    HAUNTS   OF    BRKAM    ANU    BASS. 


Bv  MAURICK    THOMrSON. 


DREAMS  come  true  ami  everythinif 
Is  fresh  and  lusty  in  the  spring. 
In  groves,   that  smell  like  ambergris, 
Wind-songs,  bird-songs  never  cease. 

Go  with  me  down  by  the  stream. 
Haunt  of  bass  and  purple  bream ; 

Icel  the  pleasure,   keen  and  sweet. 
When  the  cool  waves  lap  your  feet ; 

Catch  the  breath  of  moss  and  mold, 
Hear  the  grosbeak's  whistle  bold  ; 

See  the  heron  all  alone 
Mid-stream  on  a  slippery  stone, 

Or,   on  some  decaying  log. 
Spearing  snail  or  water-frog, 

Whilst  the  sprawling  turtles  swim 
In  the  eddies  cool  and  dim  ! 

II. 
The  busy  nut-hatch  climbs  his  tree, 
Around  the  great  bole  spirally. 

Peeping  into  wrinkles  gray, 
Under  ruffled  lichens  gay. 


/;/  the  Haunts  of  Bream  and  Bass. 

Lazily  pipinj,'  one  sharp  note 
I'Vom  his  silver-mailed  throat. 

And  down  the  wind  the  cat-bird's  son^ 
A  slender  medley  trails  alonjf. 

Here  a  jj^rackle  chirpinj^  low, 
There  a  crested  vireo  ; 

Kvery  tonjj^ue  of  Nature  sinj^s. 
The  air  is  palpitant  with  wini^s ! 

Halcyon   prophesies  come  to  pass 
In  the  haunts  of  bream  and  bass. 

III. 
Hubble,   bubble  flows  the  stream. 
Like  an  old  tune  through  a  dream. 

Now   I   cast  my  silken  line ; 

See  the  j^ay  lure  spin  and  shine  — 

While,   with  delicate  touch,   1   feel 
The  ijentle  pulses  of  the   reel. 

Halcyon   lau^dis  and  cuckoo  cries, 
Throujifh   its  leaves  the  plane-tree  sighs. 

Bubble,   bubble  flows  the  stream. 
Here  a  glow  and  there  a  gleam. 

Coolness  all  about  me  creeping. 
Fragrance  all  my  senses  steeping, 

Spice-wood,  sweet-gum,   sassafras, 
Calamus  and  water-grass, 

Giving  up  their  pungent  smells 
Drawn   from   Nature's  secret  wells; 

On  the  cool  breath  of  the  morn 
Fragrance  of  the  cockspur  thorn. 

IV. 

1   see  the  morning-glory's  curl. 

The  curious  star-flower's  pointed  whorl. 


397 


)♦: 


|i 

r 


ih 


s 


398 


/;/  the  Haunts  of  Bream  and  Bass. 

I  Icar  the  woodpfckcr.  rap-a-tap ! 
Set-  him   with  his  cariiinal's  cap! 

And  the  querulous,  leerinj^f  jay, 
How  he  chuiiors  for  a  fra)  .' 

Patiently   I   (h-aw  ami  cast. 
KeenI)'  expectant,   till,   at  last, 

C\)mes  a  flash,  clown   in  the  stream, 
Nev«r  maile  1)\-  perch  or  bream, 

Then   a  mi}j;lUy   weij^ht    1    reel, 
Sin}j;s  the  line  ami   whirs  the  reel ! 


I  -(1 


Out  of  a  tfiant  tulip-tree, 

;\  jj^reat  j^^ay  blossom   falls  on   me ; 

Old  jfold  ami  fire  its  petals  an;, 
it  flashes  like  a  rallini,^  star. 

.\  l)i}j^  blue  heron   flyiny  by 
Looks  at  me   with  a  i,Teeily  eye. 

I   see  a  striped  sc|uirrel  shoot 
Into  a  hollow   maple-root: 

.\  bumble-bee,   with   mail  all  rust. 

His  thijijhs  puffed  out   with  anther-ilust, 

Clasps  a  shrinkinjf  bloom  about. 
And  draws  her  amber  sweetnc^ss  out. 

Hubble,  bubble  flows  the  stream. 
Like  an  old  tune  throuj,di  a  dream  ! 

K  white-faced  hornet  hurtles  by, 
La^s  a  turquoise  butterfly. 

One  intent  on  prey  and  treasure. 
One  afloat  on  tides  of  pleasure ! 

Sunshine  arrows,  swift  and  keen. 
Pierce  the  maple's  helmet  green. 


iir 

1    ,i    ' 

///  the  Haunts  of  /inuun  and  Bass. 


399 


VI. 

I   follow  wlu-rc  my  victim  Icatls, 
'I'hroiij^fh   taiijflcs  oC  rank   watt-r- weeds, 

O'er  sloiu'  and  root  and  knotty   U)^. 
And    faithless  i)its  of  reedy  lio^. 

I    woniler  will  he  ever  stop  ? 

The  reel   hums  likt;  a  humminj^-top ' 

A  thin  sandpiper,  wild  with  frij^ht. 
Cjoes  into  ecstasies  of  tlijfht, 

Whilst   1.  all   lliisheil  and  breathless,  tear 
Throui^h  lad)  fern  and  maiilen's-hair, 

And  in   my  straining;  fmjj^t.'rs  fcul 
The  throhhin^f  of  the  rod  and   reel! 

Miihhie,  huhhie   flows  the  stream. 
Like  an  okl  tune  throuj^h  a  tlreani ' 

VII. 

At  last  he  tires.  I    ^eel  him   in  ; 
I   see  the   Ljlint  of  scale  and  fin. 

1   raise  the   rod — 1   shorten   line 
And  safely  land  him ;    he  is  mine ! 

The  belted  halcyon  laughs,  the  wren 
Comes  twitterin*,'^  from   its  brushy  den 

The  turtle  sprawls  upon   his  loj^, 
I   hear  the  boomini;-  of  a  frot^. 

Li(|uid  amber's  keen   perfunu', 
Sweet-punk,  calamus,  tulip-bloom, 

(ilimpses  of  a  cloutlless  sky 
Soothe  me  as  1   restinjj^  lie. 

Bubble,  bubble  flows  the   stream. 
Like  low   music  throu<;h  a  ilream. 


I 


I  i'il 


%} 


^sM 


SALMON-I'ISII  INC, 


llv   A.  (i.  \V1  I.KI  NSON. 


ALTHOUGH  the  salmon  is  tlu;  acknowlcdj^ntl  k'wv^  of  fishes. 
/  1  aiul  the  takinj^  of  it  the  most  royal  of  sports,  yet  compara- 
A.  A.  lively  few  inilulj^e  in  the  pastime.  There  are  certainly 
many,  and  those  too  amonjf  the  foremost  men  of  our  country, 
who  concede  fully  the  benefits  to  be  derived,  not  only  from  open-air 
life  and  exercise,  but  from  havinjf  some  pursuit  or  specialty  outside 
of  business  and  profession, —  call  it  hobby,  if  you  will. —  which,  while 
it  ^ives  rest  to  certain  faculties  of  the  mind,  e(|ually  exercises  ami 
strenijthens  others.  They  realize  truly  that  life  is  better  than  fame, 
and  sound  lunj^s  and  j^ood  dij^estion  than  a  fat  |)urse ;  but  the  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  taking'  salmon  turn  most  of  these  in  a  tliffi-rent 
direction  for  their  recreation. 

The  three  principal  hinderances  to  salmon-fishinij  in  liiis 
country  are:  the  j^reat  trouble  in  obtaining  either  a  lease  of  a 
stream  or  a  permit  for  the  best  [)art  of  the  season ;  the  jLjreat 
distances  to  be  traveled,  and  conscHjuent  loss  of  valuable  time ; 
and  the  large  expense  as  compared  with  other  sorts  of  outdoor 
amusements. 

'I'he  rejrion  where  salmon  can  at  the  pri'sent  day  bi-  taken,  in  suffi- 
cient numbers  to  reward  one  for  the  attendant  troubU;  and  expense, 
is  a  circumscribed  one.  Hetjinnint^  at  (  hu-bec.  ami  following  down 
the  river  St.  Lawrence,  the  salmon-streams  are  very  numerous  upon 
the  northern  shore,  and  exteml  far  away  to  the  Labrador  coast. 
Among  them  are  the  well-known  Laval,  (lodbout.  Trinity,  St. 
Margaret,  Moisic,  St.  John's,  Magpie,  Mingan,  (ireat  and  Little 
Romaine  Rivers. 


26 


401 


mmmmm 


v^y 


|i; 


402 


Sdliiiou  -Fis/iiitg. 


The  range  of  inouiitains  on  the-  north  shore  runs  within  a  few 
miles  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  antl  hence  the  rivers  upon  that  side  are 
verN-  short  antl  rapid,  (living  but  few  ijood  pools,  and  are,  as  a  gen- 
eral thing-,  very  difficult  to  fish.  Only  a  few  good  streams  are  found 
on  the  south  shore,  among  which  are  the  Rimouski,  Ciramle  Metis, 
and  Matane.  Passing  down  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence,  we  come  to 
the  Basin  of  Gaspe,  into  which  flow  three  admirable  streams ;  and 
farther  on,  upon  the  north  shore  of  the  Hay  of  Chaleurs,  and  at  its 
western  end,  are  some  of  the  best,  includin;;;  the  famous  Restigouche, 


—-  -"^^^Y — ''^^^""'■■''i-.V'-'^-" 

_-i::^.v-'"£-,ato-'*a6SJ^ 

jyjHKT..:: 

b. 

PWWffT^  •** 

fin 

iib^jt^nl 

■  '-tTc  ',       "'  I 

V 

"■W<F-*>V-  ■ 

*!, 

\                           '    #               ■      1 

.c 

'  >.  ■  " 

■ 

.      .■-■>r¥^.' '  .-. 

■';^^ 

%i 

_/ 

"^^^^C-"'        ' 

^•' 

.■■  1  , 

- 

r  ■ 

\ 

sr 

- 

ON    THE    UODBOUT. 


fished  yearly  by  iMiglishmen  who  cross  the  Atlantic  for  that  express 
purpose;  also  the  Cascapedia,  made  more  noted  through  Mr.  Daw- 
son's charming  letters  from  there,  where,  at  a  good  ripe  age,  he  took 
his  first  salmon.  The  Nipisiguit  on  the  south  shore  of  the  Hay  of 
Chaleurs  and  the  Miramichi  on  the  eastern  coast  of  New  Hrunswick 
are  the  last  salmon-streams  of  any  account  until  we  come  to  Nova 
Scotia,  where  there  are  a  few  upon  its  south-east  coast  below 
Halifa.x. 

In  Cape  Hreton  there  is  a  single  good  river,  the  Margarie.    Here 
and  there  small  streams  are  found  in  other  parts  of  New  Hrunswick 


■MM 


Salmon  -Fisliiug. 


403 


JlNITKlN   ilF  THE   RKSTIGOUCHE   AND  MATAPKDIAC   RIVKKS. 


and  in  the  Island  of  Anticosti,  but  practically  salmon-an^ding  is  con- 
fined to  the  rivers  of  Canada  East  and  those  of  the  northern  part  of 
New  Brunswick,  which  includes  the  Miramichi. 

Hut  few  of  the  rivers  we  have  mentioned  debouch  near  a  steamer 
landinjj;',  and  all  others  are  difficult  of  access.  To  reacli  these  latter 
the  angler  must  manage  in  some  way  to  get  transportation  for  man)- 
miles  over  a  rough  country,  where  it  is  difficult  to  find  horses,  wagons, 
or  roads ;  or  he  must  charter  a  small  sailing-vessel  and  run  along  a 
most  dangerous  coast,  carrying  with  him  both  canoes  and  men.  The 
Restigouche  and  Matapediac  are  reached  with  comparative  ease  from 
Dalhousie,  a  landing-place  of  the  Ciulf  Port  steamers.  This  line  of 
steamers  also  touches  at  Gaspe  Hasin,  leaviiig  passengers  just  at  the 
mouths  of  the  three  streams  flowing  into  it.  These  are  the  York,  St. 
John,  and  Dartmouth,  called  by  the  natives  the  South-west.  Douglas- 
town,  anil  Xorth-west.  These  rivers  are  among  the  best  stocketl  in 
Canada.  The  scenery  about  them  is  nu)st  varieil,  anil  in  this  respect 
unlike  most  other  parts  of  Canada,  wliere  one  tires  of  tlii'  monotony 
of  mere  grandeur  and  longs  for  the  |)icturesque.  Thiy  tlow  chiefly 
throuirh  deei)  o-oryes,  or  canons,  and  l)etween  mountains,  which 
occasionally  rise  to  the  height  of  a  thousam!  or  fifteen  hundred  teet. 
Heautifid  lakes,  filled  to  repletion  with  brook -trout,  are  found  on  the 
high  land  between  the  rivers,  which  for  ipiite  a  distance  flow  within 
a  few  miles  of  one  another.  These  streams  are  very  rapid,  anil  in 
early  spring   are   almost  torrents,    and   yet  they  have  very  few  falls 


i 


\  m 


m 


\\ 


i«. 


m 


! 


'ii4 


.P 


'  !  *;  ■.J 


i     J 


m 


404 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


ii     \ 


H:' 


THE   VAI.LKY  OF  THE   MATAl'EDIAC. 


around  which  a  "  carry  "  must  be  made.  Comfortable  houses  have 
been  erected  at  some  trouble  and  expense  every  ten  or  twelve 
miles  on  those  parts  of  the  York  and  St.  John  which  abound  in 
good  pools. 

The  Canadian  Government  exercises  complete  control  of  the 
principal  salmon-streams,  both  in  their  tidal  and  fluvial  parts.  Leases 
are  commonly  given  for  several  years,  but  occasionally  a  schedule  of 
vacant  rivers  is  published,  giving  "upset"  or  minimum  prices  at 
which  season  permits  will  be  granted.  These  vary  from  $20  to 
$500  in  gold .  The  very  fact  that  such  advertisement  is  made 
indicates  of  itself  that  the  rivers  are  not,  for  some  reason,  very  de- 
sirable. The  best  rivers  are  leased  for  eight  or  ten  years,  and  upon 
the  likelihood  of  a  vacancy,  numerous  applicants  bring  influences 
to  bear  to  secure  the  chance  at  once. 

It  is  understood  that  as  a  general  thing  lea.ses  of  the  better  class 
of  streams  are  not  to  be  given  to  the  "  States  "  people,  as  they  call 
us  of  the  United  States.  Our  political  anglers  often  remark  that  it 
is  more  difficult  to  lease  a  good  salmon-stream  than  to  secure  an  elec- 
tion to  Congress.  A  thousand  dollars  has  been  paid  for  the  use  of 
the  fluvial  part  only  of  a  first-class  stream  for  a  single  season,  this 
including,  of  course,  all  the  fittings  and  canoes,  etc.  .Add  to  the 
cost  of  a  "permit"  the  traveling  and  camping  expenses,  and  the 
price  of  good  salmon  tackle,  which  is  always  of  the  most  expensi\e 
sort,  and  you  swell  the  sum-total  of  a  summer  tri]j  to  cjuite  an 
amount. 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


405 


While  the  Canadians  are  so  tenacious  of  their  leases,  and  naturally- 
desirous  of  keeping  the  best  streams  for  themselves,  yet  they  are  most 
generous  and  kind  to  their  "  States"  friends.  Often,  one  is  not  only 
accorded  a  permit  to  fish,  but  receives  an  invitation  to  make,  for  the  time 
being,  all  the  accessories  and  fittings  of  the  stream  his  own,  including 
houses,  canoes,  and  cooking-utensils.     My  invitation,  some  years  ago, 


f  ANADIAN    SAI.MdN    RIVF.RS   AND  OASI'fe    BASIN. 


from  that  genial  sportsman,  Mr.  Reynolds,  of  Ottawa,  was  to  make  the 
York  river  my  own.  paying  simply  for  my  men  and  provisions.  His 
guests  kill  every  year  many  salmon  to  his  one,  and  he  enjoys  their 
success  far  better  than  his  own.  An  Indian  would  wish  him,  in  the 
happy  hunting-grounds,  the  exclusive  right  of  the  best  stream.  We  can 
only  express  our  heartfelt  wish  that  for  a  score  of  years  to  come  he 
may  continue  yearly  to  take  his  47-p()und  salmon  in  his  favorite  stream. 
To  the  cost  of  stream  and  tackle  must  be  added  the  great  uncer- 
tainty of  getting  fish.  One  may  secure  the  best  stream,  purcha.se 
the  best  tackle,  and  travel  a  thousand  miles  to  no  purpose,  for  Salmo 
salar  is  a  very  uncertain  fish,  and  the  worst  sort  of  a  conundrum. 
Sometimes  he  comes  early  and  sometimes  late  ;  sometimes  he  goes 
leisurely  up  the  rivers,  lingering  accommodatingly  at  the  pools,  and 
seemingly  in  good  mood  for  sporting  with  flies ;  and  sometimes, 
when  kept  back  by  the  ice  of  a  late  spring,  he  goes  for  the  head- 
waters at  once,  only  stopping  when  comiielled  by  fatigue,  and  then 
26A 


iPiPI 


4o6 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


:14 


II:'' i 


having  no  time  to  waste  upon  flies.  Last  year,  with  scores  of  sahiion, 
by  actual  count,  in  the  different  pools,  often  not  more  than  one  in  a 
pool  could  be  tempted  to  rise  to  our  flies.  All  these  combined  causes 
make  the  number  of  salmon-anglers  small. 

A  stream  being  s'  ured,  the  selection  of  tackle  is  an  easy  matter. 
A  water-proofed  American-made  silk  line  of  about  three  hundred 
feet,  tapering  gradually  at  each  end,  so  that  it  may,  when  worn,  be 
changed  end  for  end,  is  the  one  generally  used  in  this  country.  A 
simple  reel  with  click  is  the  best,  and  it  may  be  of  hard  rubber 
or  metal,  as  preferred.  If  of  metal,  it  is  usually  nickel  or  silver 
plated.  In  olden  times,  the  Scotch  salmon-angler  strapped  around 
his  waist  a  roughly  made  wooden  reel  of  large  size,  called  a 
pirn.  It  was  entirely  unconnected  with  the  rod,  along  which  the 
line  was  carried  by  rings,  beginning  quite  a  distance  above  the  hand. 
In  the  old  .Scotch  works  upon  angling,  we  read  of  the  gaffer  singing 
out  to  his  laird,  "Pirn  in!  pirn  in!  you'll  be  drooned  and  coot" 
(drowned  and  cut),  by  which  he  meant,  "  Reel  in,  or  your  line  will 
bag  and  be  cut  off  by  getting  around 
the  sharp  edges  of  the  rocks." 

The  Scotch  poaching  angler  sus- 
pends by  straps  under  his  outer  gar- 
ments a  capacious  bag  of  coctrse 
linen  for  concealing  his  salmon,  while 
quite  innocently  he  carries  in  his  hand 
a  string  of  trout.  Lord  Scrope  once 
caught  a  poacher  with  a  salmon  in 
his  bag,  and  demanded  how  it  got 
there.  The  reply  was,  "How  the 
beast  got  there  1  dinna  ken.  He 
must  ha'  louped  intil  ma  pocket  as  I 
war  wading." 

The  leader,  of  nine  to  twelve  feet 
nearest  the  hook,  is  of  the  best 
selected  silk-worm  gut,  which  should  stand  a  test  of  four  or  five 
pounds  strain.  This  gut  is  made  by  taking  the  silk-worm  just 
before  it  begins  to  spin  its  cocoon,  and  soaking  it  in  vinegar  some 
hours.  The  secreting  glands  of  the  worm  are  at  that  time  filled  with 
the  mass  of  glutinous  matter  from  which  the  silk  of  the  cocoon  is  to 


Sn/iuou  -Fis/iiiig. 


407 


be  spun.  One  end  of  the  worm,  after  it  is  thus  soaked,  is  pinned 
to  a  board,  and  the  other  stretched  out  some  ei^ht  or  ten  inches 
and  secureil.  When  this  is  hardened,  it  becomes  the  beautiful 
white,  round  ji^ut  of  commerce,  which,  when  stained  water-color,  and 
dropped  lightly  in  the  pool,  will  not  be  noticed  by  the  fish. 

In  the  matter  of  iods,  the  conservative  man  still  clinj^s  to  a  well- 
made  wooden  one  of  <j;reenheart  or  other  approved  wootl,  of  which 
the  taper  and  strength  are  so  accurately  proportioned  that  the  addition 
of  but  a  few  ounces  at  the  end  of  the  line  carries  the  main  l)end  or 
arch  nearer  the  butt  end.  Those  who  are  not  so  conservative,  and 
who  are  fond  of  lessening  in  every  practicable  way  the  somewhat 
tedious  labor  of  casting  the  fly,  choose  a  rod  of  split  bamboo,  which 
weighs  about  two  pounds.  My  own  weighs  but  twenty-seven  ounces, 
although  nearly  sixteen  feet  long.  No  one  will  risk  himself  upon  a 
stream  without  extra  rod,  reels,  and  lines,  and  if  he  takes  a  green- 
heart  and  split  bamboo,  he  has  two  as  good  rods  as  are  made.  One 
who  has  long  used  a  heavy  wooden  rod  has  at  first  a  feeling  of 
insecurity  and  a  distrust  of  the  slender  bamboo,  which  can,  if  neces- 
sary, be  wielded  by  a  single  strong  arm.  It  is  .said  an  old  Scotch- 
man, handling  one  of  these  rods  for  the  first  time,  exclaimed:  "  Do 
ye  ca'  that  a  tule  to  kie  a  saumont  wi'  ?  1  wad  na  gie  it  to  my 
bairnies  to  kie  a  gilsie  wi'."  it  should  be  explained  that  a  gril.se 
is  a  young  salmon  just  returned  from  a  first  trip  to  the  sc^a.  After 
its  second  trip,  it  returns  a  salmon  proper,  with  all  the  characteristic 
markings.  It  often  happens  that  a  grilse  (called  by  the  Scotch  "  gilsie." 
or  salmon-peel)  is  larger  than  a  salmon  one  or  two  years  older,  the 
varieties  differ  so  in  size.  The  young  of  the  salmon  are  first  called 
parrs,  and  have  peculiar  spots  and  dark  bars,  or  "finger-marks,"  as 
they  are  called.  .\t  eighteen  months,  they  are  some  six  inches  long, 
and  the  following  spring  silver  scales  grow  over  the  bars  and  spots, 
when  they  are  called  smolt,  retaining  that  name  until  they  go  to  sea. 
For  a  long  time  the  parr  was  hekl  to  be  a  species  of  trout,  and 
entirely  distinct  from  salmon.  Lortl  .Scrope,  the  author  of  "  Days  and 
Nights  of  Salmon-lMshing,"  a  work  now  extremely  rare,  held  long 
and  animated  discussions  with  James  Hogg,  the  "  lutrick-Shep- 
herd,"  upon  this  subject,  which  was  settled  practically  l)y  a  Mr.  .Shaw, 
of  Drumlanrig,  who  tagged  a  parr  and  identified  it  again  as  a  full 
grown  salmon  in  1836. 


*l!i 


'I 


i'l 


% 


4o8 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


'■  ;m  i 


IN    THK     llAKHdK    Ol'    ST.     JOHN 


The  manufacture  of  a  fine  rod  of  split  bamboo  is  a  work  requir- 
ing great  skill  and  judgment,  not  unlike  that  required  to  make  the 
far-famed  Cremona  violin.  The  rods  are  made  usually  from  Calcutta 
bamboo,  as  ".t  has  a  larger  proportion  of  enamel  with  tough  fiber  and 
long  growth  between  joints.  In  the  Japanese  bamboo,  the  fibers 
follow  the  joints  too  closely,  and  so  must  be  cut  into  in  straightening 
the  pieces.  Our  American  cane  is  lighter,  and  the  enamel  is  very 
hard  and  elastic,  ])ut  the  inner  woody  fiber  is  soft  as  well  as  brittle;. 
Sometimes  several  invoices  of  Calcutta  c;me  will  not  contain  one 
suitable  piece  for  rod-making.  The  canes  mildew  on  the  passages, 
and  this  injures  the  fibers.  Sometimes  they  are  injured  in  being 
straightened  over  a  fire,  and  often  a  single  worm-hole  ruins  the 
entire  piece.  Just  as  our  forest  trees  have  the  thickest  and  roughest 
bark  on  the  north  side,  so  the  bamboo  has  thicker  and  harder  enamel 
upon  whichever  side  was  exposed  to  storms.  In  making  fine  rods 
'"It  only  the  best  cane  is  selected,  but  the  best  side  of  this  selected 
une  is  preferred. 


hm 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


409 


The  split  baml)oo  rod  is  an  instance  in  which  nature  is  success- 
fully improved.  The  cane  in  its  natural  j^rowth  has  ^reat  strenj^th 
as  a  hollow  cylinder,  but  it  lacks  the  re([uired  elasticity.  The  outer 
surface  or  enamel  is  the  hardest  of  vegetable  jrrowth,  anil  is  made  up 
larj.jely  of  silica.  The  rod-maker,  by  usinj^  all  of  the  enamel  possible, 
and  by  his  peculiar  construction  avoiding  the  central  open  space, 
.secures  great  strength  with  lightnes.s,  and  nearly  the  elasticity  of 
steel   it.self 

In  making  a  rod,  some  ten  or  twelve  feet  of  the  butt  of  the  cane 
is  sawed  off  and  split  into  thin  pieces  or  stranils.  These  pieces  are 
then  beveled  on  each  side,  so  that  when  fitted  together  they  form  a 
solid  rod  of  about  half  the  diameter  or  less  of  the  original  hollow  cane. 
This  beveling  is  done  with  a  saw,  or  a  plane  if  preferred,  but  more 
e.xpeditiousl)-  by  having  two  rotary  saws  or  cutters  set  at  an  angle 
of  60°  to  each  other,  in  case  the  rod  is  to  be  of  si.x  strands.  The 
strip  is  fed  to  the  cutters  by  means  of  a  pattern  which,  as  the  small 
end  of  the  strip  approaches,  raises  it  into  the  ape.x  of  the  angle 
formed  by  the  cutters.  This  preserves  a  uniform  bevel,  and  still 
narrows  each  strand  toward  its  tip  end  so  as  to  produce  the  regular 
decrease  in  size  of  the  rod  as  it  approaches  the  extreme  end.  These 
strips  can  also,  if  desired,  be  filed  to  a  bevel  by  placing  them  in  trian- 
gular grooves  of  varying  depths  in  a  block  of  lignum-vitie.  The 
pieces  are  then  filed  down  to  the  level  of  the  block,  which  is  held  in  a 
vise  during  the  operation. 

The  six  or  twelve  strips  as  required,  being  worked  out,  and  each 
part  carefully  tested  throughout  its  entire  length  by  a  gauge,  are 
ready  for  gluing  together,  a  process  requiring  great  care  anil  skill. 
The  parts  should  be  so  selected  and  joined  that  the  knots  of  the  cane 
"  break  joints."  The  parts  being  tied  together  in  position  at  two  or 
three  points,  the  ends  are  opened  out  and  hot  glue  well  rubbed  in 
among  the  pieces  for  a  short  distance  with  a  stiff  brush.  A  stout 
cord  is  then  wound  around  the  strands  from  the  end  glued  towaril 
the  other  portions,  which  are  opened  and  glued  in  turn,  .say  eight  or 
ten  inches  at  a  time.  A  short  length  only  is  glued  at  one  time  .so 
that  slight  crooks  in  the  pieces  can  be  straightened,  and  this  is  done 
by  bending  the  rod  and  sliding  the  pieces  past  each  other.  I  )uring 
the  gluing  all  inequalities  and  want  of  symmetry  must  be  corrected 
or  not  at  all,  and  so  the  calipers  are  constantly  applied  to  every  side 


^^^;i! 


410 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


HJW'! 


at  short  intervals,  and  any  excess  of  thickness  cor- 
rected l)y  press! nj^  the  parts  together  in  a  vise. 
Figure  i  shows  a  section  of  a  length  of  bamboo 
cane  from  which  the  strips  indicated  by  spaces 
marked  off  are  to  be  sawed.  Figure  2  is  an  end 
view  of  thesix  strands  properly  beveled  and  glued 
together.  This  length  or  joint  of  the  rod  is  made 
up  of  six  sectors  of  a  circle  whose  diameter  is 
greater  than  that  of  the  rod,  and  hence  it  is  necessarily  what  in  com- 
mon parlance  might  be  called  six-cornered.  Figure  3  is  an  end  view, 
natural  size,  of  a  six-stranded  salmon-rod  tip  at  its  larger  end ;  and 
Figure  4  is  a  longitutlinal  view  of  a  piece  of  a  Leonard  trout-rod 


lying  before  me.  This  figure 
as  the  calipers  can  deter- 
amount  of  skill,  patience, 
required  in  the  art  we  have 


tip  of  ta'clvc  strands  now 
gives  the  size  as  accurately 
mine  it,  and  shows  what  vast 
and  untiring  industry  is 
been  describing.  '''°' "' 

The  ferrules  are  water-tight  and  expose  no  wood  in  either  the 
socket  or  the  tenon  part.  Bamboo  is  so  filled  with  capillary  tubes 
that  water  would  be  carried  through  the  lengths  and  unglue  _^ 
them,  if  it  could  once  reach  the  ends  where  the  joints  of  the  ^ 
rod  are  coupled  together ;  hence  the  necessity  of  careful 
protection  at  this  place.  The  entire  rod  when  finished  is  covered 
,-  —  „__     — -_.    with    the    best   copal    coach    varnish. 

F'G-4-  Hy  taking  care  to  renew  the  varnish 

from  time  to  time,  no  water  need  ever  get  to  the  seams. 

In  spite  of  the  prejudice  against  what  has  been  called  a  gentle- 
man's parlor  rod,  thej-  have  steadily  gained  in  favor.  Twenty- 
five  years  ago,  a  London  firm  made  split-bamboo  rods,  putting 
the  enamel  inside.*  Naturally  enough,  with  the  soft  part  of  the 
cane  exposed  to  wear  and  weather,  and  nearly  all  the  enamel  sac- 
rificed, they  did  not  find  favor  in  the  eyes  of  thoughtful  or  scientific 
anglers,  at  least.  Mr.  Phillippi,  living  at  Easton,  Pa.,  conceived  the 
idea,  in  1866,  of  putting  the  enamel  upon  the  outside,  where  it 
would  do  the  most  good.  Next,  Mr.  (ireen  and  Mr.  Murphy  put 
their  heads  together,   antl  made   rods  of  this  sort  of  four  strands. 


1  ;' 


•  See  •'  'I'lic  Split  Bamboo  Kod- 
this  hook. 


Its  History,  etc.,"  by  Mr.  William  Mitchell,  in 


■Miilill 


Salmon  -  Fisliing. 


411 


and  finally  the  old  well-known 
firm  of  A.  Clerk  &  Co.,  New 
York,  introduced  into  the  mar- 
ket the  Leonard  rod  of  six  and 
twelve  stranils,  and  have  r- , — 
since  been  siip- 
plyinj^  Europeans 
with  all  they  get 
of  this  article.* 
•  1  have  taken 
not  a  little  pains 
to  get,  as  far  as 
possible,  a  cor- 
rect liistory  of 
this  somewhat  re- 
markable inven- 
tion. My  own  rod 
of  this  kind  has 
been  used  in  both 
rain  and  shine  for 
several  seasons, 
and  is  now  in  per- 
tests,  1  iiave  never 
weight,  or  of  its  length  and  any  weight,  that  could  throw  a  fl)  (piite 
as  far;  and,  light  as  it  is,  it  brought  last  year  to  gaff  in  twenty  min- 
utes a  thirty-five  pound  fish,  which  my  friend  Curtis  gaffed  for  me, 
off  the  high  rock  at  the  "  Big  Salmon  Hole"  of  the  York.  Any  rod 
with  which  one  has  killed  man)-  and  large  fish  is,  naturally,  held  to 
be  perfection  upon  the  stream  :  but  the  rod  we  have  been  describing 
is  beautiful  as  an  objet  dc  vcrtu,  and  in  the  library  becomes  a  source 
of  joy  to  every  admirer  of  skilled  workmanship,  though  he  be  not 
familiar  with  its  use. 

This    illustration    shows   the    angler   who    has   kept  just    strain 

•  fl  have  seen  a  split  bamboo  rod  made,  according  to  tiie  suggestions  of  that  distin- 
guished angler,  tlie  late  James  Stevens,  of  Hoboken,  by  Blacker,  of  London.  This 
rod  is  of  three  sections,  with  the  enamel  on  the  outside,  and  was  made  in  1852 
while  Mr.  Stevens  was  in  London.  This  date  has  been  accurately  determined  for 
me  by  his  son,  Mr,  Frank  Stevens.  —  Ki)rrt)K.] 


feet  order.      In   carefiil 
yet  seen   a   rod   of   its 


^11 

s  l'4i 

4af 

\m 

i  In 

^ilw 

il 

11 

ill 

w 


il 
■J 

111 


\ 


412 


Sahuoii  -Fishing. 


'1^ 


1 


Pi 


l^'i    (■ 


r\ 


\     !1 


hriv 


*!■ 


iMioiij^rh  on  the  rod  to  prevent  the  hook  from  droppin}^'  out  of  the 
moutli  of  the  fish, — which  measured  forty-eij^ht  inches  in  U-ngth, 
—  while  his  frienti,  after  havinj^  si<illfiilly  iiooked  him  with  a  pro- 
dij^iously  lon^  j^aff,  is  drawinjf  him  forwani  so  as  to  use  ijoth  hands 
in  Hftini;'  him  upon  the  rock.  As  some  of  our  skillful  suryiions 
|)erform  even  the  delicate  operation  for  a  cataract  equall)'  well  with 
either  hand,  so  must  tlu;  successful  salmon-angler  become  ambidex- 
trous. In  casting'  he  must  be  able,  of  course,  to  use  either  hand  for- 
ward at  will,  and  when  one  arm  has  become  lamed  by  holdinj^^  the 
rod,  as  it  rests  aj^ainst  the  waist  in  playinjj^  ;i  fish,  and  takes  nearly 
all  the  strain  while  the  (jther  manipulates  the  reel,  hi-  must  be  able  to 
chanj^e  the  position  of  the  reel  upon  the  rod,  anil  work  it  with  his 
left  hand  while  his  right  manaj^es  the  rod.  This  left-handed  arranyji- 
ment  is  shown  in  the  fijjjure  with  the  reel  on  top  in  its  proper  posi- 
tion, and  the  right  hand  taking  all  the  strain. 

The  scientific  angler,  as  soon  as  the  fish  is  hooked,  turns  his  rod 
over  and  brings  his  line  uppermost,  so  that  it  hugs  and  strains  the 
rod  etpiall)-  at  every  inch  of  its  length,  leaving  to  the  rings  their 
proper  function  of  simply  guiding  the  line. 

Having,  through  Mr.  Curtis's  kindness,  received  an  invitation 
from  Mr.  Reynolds,  as  already  mentioned,  to  fish  his  river,  the  York, 
accompanied  by  any  friend  whom  I  might  select,  I  provided  myself 
with  a  Norris  greenheart  and  a  Leonard  bamboo  in  the  way  of  rods, 
and  with  an  assortment  of  proper  flies. 

It  is.  however,  in  the  selection  of  friends  to  accompany  us  that  we 
find  the  greatest  difficulty  connected  with  a  projected  e.xcursion  for 
salmon.  One  may  have  plenty  of  friends  who  would  make  camp-life 
delightfiil,  and  whose  presence  at  the  festive  board  "  would  make  a 
feast  of  a  red  herring";  but  they  cannot  be  ordered  for  a  trip,  like 
tackle.  Your  choice  must,  as  a  matter  of  course,  be  very  ifiuch  re- 
stricted. You  will  never  trust  yourself  in  camp  with  your  best  friend 
unless  you  have  seen  him  under  fire ;  that  is  to  say,  unless  you  know 
how  he  will  stand  the  thousand  and  one  annoyances  incident  to  long 
journeys  with  poor  conveyances  and  still  poorer  hotels  ;  with  black 
flies,  sand-flies,  mo.squitoes,  fleas,  and  worse.  The  best  companion 
of  the  library,  the  drawing-room,  and  the  watering-place,  although 
possessed  of  the  most  kindly  attributes,  oftentimes  becomes  absolutely 
unendurable  when  quartered  for  a  day  or  two  on  the  banks  of  a  Can- 


IB 


1  'JIH***"**^ 


Sninion  -lushing. 


4 '3 


A    CANADIAN     IMSlllNG    KIVKK. 


adian  river,  with  limited  cuisiin',  unlimited  mimluM-s  of  insects,  and 
poor  luck  at  an}j;^lin<jf.  Never  rjo  with  one  who  is  painfully  precise, 
and  who  wishes  to  have  everything;'  his  own  way  and  at  once.  Such 
a  man  might  as  well  stay  awaj-  from  daspe,  where  the  nati\es  always 
have  their  own  way,  and  never,  under  any  circumstances,  hurry. 
Never  go  with  one  who  is  over-excitable  or  enthusiastic,  for  it  isn't 


I- ill 


\.'m 


1 1 


.!  •  i' 


B 


|f.|nl 


Si  I     '■'! 


illii  i|i  'I 


1^  W''  '■ 

lii 

l,.:ll           ^ 

414 


SnliHoii  -  /'ls/n'ng. 


just  tlu;  thinj;  to  have  a  man  stantiin^  on  his  head  in  a  hirdi-hark 
canoe  cvt-ry  tinu;  he  ^cts  "  a  rise,"  or  the  canot;  takes  a  httle  w  ater 
runnin^f  ilown  rapitls.  The  experienced  anj^l(;r  chooses  a  frienil  who 
is  tlelil)erat«.',  anil  takes  all  ills  philosophically,  and,  if  possible,  one 
with  that  fortunate  disposition  which  permits  him  tt)  keep  holh  his 
head  and  his  temper  uniUir  all  circumstances.  ( )ther  things  heinj^; 
e(|ual,  he  selects  an  ailmirer  and  follower  of  IJrillat-Savarin,  for  he 
has  ever  remarked  that  one  who  fully  enjoys  and  appreciates  the 
best  of  dinners  is  just  the  one  to  endure  with  e{|uanimity  the  worst, 
if  no  better  is  attainable. 

'I'o  be  eij^hteen  miles  from  the  main  camp  when  tish  are 
rising  as  fast  as  they  can  be  killed,  antl  to  have  but  three 
pieces  of  pilot-bread  for  the  angler  and  his  two  men.  and  to 
be  forced  to  go  without  supper  and  breakfast,  or  else  give  up 
the  sport  and  return,  will  bring  the  bad  out  of  any  man  if  it  is 
in  him. 

Your  companionable  angler  need  not  always  take  things  ijuite 
as  coolly  as  did  a  well-known  editor  who,  once  upon  a  time, 
while  engaged  in  pulling  in  a  blue-fish,  after  sawing  his  fingers 
with  a  hundred  or  more  feet  of  line,  was  seized  with  hunger  and 
fatigue,  and,  taking  a  hitch  about  a  cleat,  satisfied  his  innt.T  man 
with  sardines  and 
crackers.  To  the 
surprise  of  all  his 
companions,  after 
finishing  his  lunch 
and  resting  his 
fingers,  he  pulled 
.  in  the  fish,  which 
had  swallowed  the 
hook  so  far  down 
that  it  had  to  be 
cutout.  Of  course, 
the  first  few  feet  of 
the  line  which  he 
used  was  wired  so 
that  it  could  not 
be  bitten  off. 


THB    PIIILDljOI'IIICAI.    ANCI-KK. 


m- 


Saimon  -/'is/ting. 


4«5 


l»ark 

IV.ltlT 

w  ho 

one 

1  his 

H'injT 

)r  he 

the 


;irc 
hri.'c 
to 

up 
it   is 


OIK     KNf;l.lsll     IKII'.NI). 


HiTc  is  a  sketch  from  life  of 
a  jolly  Mnjflisii  jfentleman,  who 
gels  thoroughly  disgusted  every 
time  he  loses  a  rtsh.  He-  then, 
without  saying  a  word,  (juits  the 
business,  puts  his  hack  against 
a  smooth  tree,  and  takes  a  short 
nap.  leaving  others  to  thrash  the 
pools.  It  is  worthy  of  note  that 
one  need  niver  fear  meeting 
snohs,  swells,  or  disagreeable 
people  fishing  for  salmon.  The 
air  of  a  first-class  stream  seems 
fatal  to  all  such. 

The  last  of  June,  1S74,  found 
Mr.  Lazell  and  the  writer  tired 
out  with  close  attention  to 
duties,  and  with  barely  frame-work  enough  left  "to  veneer  a  decent 
man  upon,"  rendezvousing  at  the  office;  of  I'red.  Curtis,  I-^sq.,  in 
Boston,  preparatory  to  setting  out  for  (laspe  Masin,  Canada  luist. 
/\n  idler  cannot  appreciate  fully  the  enjoyment  we  felt  in  anticipa- 
tion of  several  weeks  (Mitirt-  freedom  from  business  of  any  sort. 
To  get  so  far  from  civilization  that  no  irascible  inventor  can  find 
you  and  argue  his  case  until  your  head  seems  ready  to  l)urst;  no 
client  can  bore  you  for  hours  without  giving  a  single  imi)ortant  fact 
in  his  case ;  and  where  you  will  h<;ar  of  no  impecunious  creditor's 
paper  going  to  protest, — is  worth  a  large  amount  of  preliminary  toil. 
After  having,  as  Lazell  asserted,  taken  an  outfit  sufficient  for  a 
whaling  voyage,  we  devoted  still  a  day  to  getting  little  odds  and 
ends  which  Curtis's  e.xperience  had  taught  him  to  provide  —  things 
which  seemed  superfluous,  and  in  fact  almost  absurd,  and  yet  worth 
their  weight  in  gold  when  one  is  thirty  miles  from  a  settlement. 
Lazell  finally,  getting  a  little  out  of  patience,  sarcastically  insisted 
upon  our  taking  a  crutch,  in  case  any  one  should  lose  a  leg.  Six 
weeks  later,  when  my  unfortunate  friend,  after  cooling  off  too  sud- 
denly from  a  twelve-mile  walk  on  a  hot  day,  found  himself  unable  to 
use  one  leg,  and  hence  was  deprived  of  his  turn  at  the  distant  best  pool, 
we  turned  back  the  laugh  by  suggesting   the  crutch  which  we  had 


li  i;  'I 


'i 

(IV 

!■  >■ 

„. 

ii  ^ 

!^- 

.       I 

M    '■ 

1 

, 

»; 

f 

! 

.1, 

1 

t 

''i  ' 

416 


S(i/>non  -Fi's/iiug 


failed  to  brinsj;^.       The  only  dcsir- 

abk:  thin^-  \v('  did  for_irc!t  was  a  l)o.\ 

of  Heriiiuda  onions.      I'licsc  could   not  he  procured  in  Canada,  and 

were  ordered  thither  from  Boston  by  telegraph.       They  only  reachi-d 

u.s  ten  day.s  after  our  arrival  upon  the  stream  ;   and  if  a  tippler  longs 

for  his  drams  as  we  did   for  the  onions,  aft«'r  a  tliel  of  fish  ami  salt 

meats,  we  pity  him. 

To  one  about  to  make  a  trip  to  Canada  l^ast,  w<;  would  say  : 
Start  in  all  cases  from  New  York,  even  though  you  live  in 
Boston.  Take  express  trains  direct  from  New  York  to  Montreal 
without  change,  and  then  the  (irand  'V\  \  c  Failway  or  night 
steamer  to  Quebec.  Wv  started  twice  fro-,  lioston,  going  once 
by  Bortlantl  and  the  (irand  Trunk,  and  once  by  the  Bassumpsic 
Railroad.  One  can  on  these  routes  endure  waiting  from  six  or 
seven  \\  m.  until  ten  r.  m.,  and  then,  after  two  hours'  additional 
travel,  waiting  from  midnight  until  three  \.  m.  at  New|)ort,  Rich- 
mond, or  Island  Boml  ;  and  at  Richmoml  being  crammed  in  a  small 
room  packed  with  I'rench- Canadian  laborers  who  never  heard  of  a 
bath  —  I  say  one  can,  but  he  doesn't  wish  a  second  experience  of  the 
sann?  sort.  The  BVenchman's  remark,  that  all  roads  an?  good  which 
lead  to  victory,  didn't  console  us  when  we  arrived  in  ( juebec  on  time. 

A  day  in  tht;  (|uiet,  cjuaint  old  city  of  (Uiebec  is  not  without 
pleasure  and  profit.  One  goes  away  feeling  that,  after  all,  heavy 
taxes  with  progress  and  improvement  are  not  such  objectionabh; 
things.  The  ([uiet  of  Quebec  is  broken  but  once  each  day  —  upon 
the  departure  of  the  steamer  for  Montreal. 


Salmon -Fishing. 

In  Ouebec,  salmon-anijlers  •gnX.  their 
supplies  usually  from  Waters  of  John 
street,  Upper  City,  who  from  loni; 
experience    needs  only  to   be   told     i 
the  size  of  your  party,  the  time  of 
your  stay,  and  approximately,  the 
limit  as  to  expense.     When  you  go 
aboard  your  steamer, 
everything;     will      be 
found  there  admiral)ly 
packed,    with    not    an 
article   wantintr. — not 
even  extra  corks  'k 


4'7 


1  M't 


\^k 


l^ 


•  ^•.' 


I'^v 


\'^. 


{  ■■  ■  ""%. 


for    stoppinj^    op- 
ened     and      partially 
used    bottles,  —  anil    the 
genial    old    countryman  himself    with 
bill  of  lading  in  hand,  awaiting  your 
coming    to    wish    you    gootl-byc;    and 
galore  of  sport  ami  salmon. 
'  Tuesday,    the    last    day    of    June, 

icS74,  at  two  o'clock  i'.   m.   we  set  sail  in 
the    "  .Secret,"    formerly    the    fastest    of    the 
Southern  blockade    runners. 

We  were  due  in  (iaspe  Basin  at  four  a.  m. 
Thursday,   luit  were    delayed    1)\    storm,   and   did    not 


/ 


ii^:.^ 


r 


r^M 


arrive 

off       the 

Cliffs    until 

one    I".    M.      For    quite    a 

distance    before    reaching 

2  7 


'mM 


"^ 


A    Ml.MdKV    or    (,)ll:llK( 


418 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


SJ     III 


F;;i5! 


;l:i    ' 


Gaspe  Head,  which  is  at  the  immediate  entrance  of  the  Bay,  we 
sailed  past  long  lines  of  small  boats  anchored  at  intervals  of  a  few 
hundred  feet.  Into  these  boats  we  could  see  with  a  glass  the  cod-fish 
pulled  at  rapid  rates. 

The  last  few  miles  of  sea-coast  is  a  rugged,  nearly  perpendicular 
cliff,  in  some  places  over  eight  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  resembling 
somewhat  the  Dover  Cliffs,  but  more  remarkable  in  appearance.  As 
we  turned  Gaspe  Head,  the  sun  shone  out  warm  and  bright,  the 
water  became  more  quiet,  and  our  lady  passengers  were  able  to  get 
on  deck,  and  to  enjoy  themselves  for  the  first  time  since  leaving 
Ouebec. 

So  well  had  our  kind  friend  Reynolds  arranged  matters,  that  all 
our  men,  with  horses  for  taking  us  with  our  luggage  up  the  stream, 
were  awaiting  us  at  the  wharf. 

We  delayed  a  little  to  receive  the  honest  welcomes  of  a  score  or 
more  of  the  inhabitants,  who.  having  learned  that  friends  of  Mr. 
Curtis  had  arrived,  lost  no  time  in  paying  their  respects.  Our  friend 
Curtis  has  a  way  of  going  around  the  world,  dispensing  favors  right 
and  left,  and  but  few  prominent  persons  in  Gaspe  had  not  at  some 
time  received  the  much  coveted  permit  for  a  day's  fishing,  accom- 
panied with  flies  and  leaders,  or  something  else  equally  desired.  We 
were  now  to  reap  tlie  reward  of  his  thoughtfulness  about  little  matters. 

One  can  be  made  uncomfortable  by  a  thousand  little  annoyances, 
and  he  will  be,  if  in  any  way  he  gets  the  ill-will  of  the  people  near 
his  stream.  If  he  acquires  a  reputation  for  bargaining  and  paying- 
small  prices  for  services  rendered,  he  had  better  at  once  give  up  his 
stream  and  seek  another  as  far  from  it  as  possible.  Accompanied 
with  the  honest  hand-shake  of  some  of  the  hardy  fishermen  was  their 
assurance  that  they  should  as  usual  expect  all  our  worn-out  flies  and 
frayed  leaders  upon  our  return  from  the  river,  and  also  any  spare 
fish  we  thought  not  worth  sending  home.  Their  universal  "so  long" 
in  place  of  good-bye  amused  us  not  a  little,  but  why  they  use  it  or 
whence  it  is  derived  we  could  not  conjecture. 

Half  a  mile  from  the  landing  we  stopped  upon  high  ground  near 
the  residence  of  Mr.  Holt  (then  our  efficient  Consul  at  Gaspe),  to 
enjoy  our  surroundings. 

At  our  feet  was  the  Bay,  by  common  consent  scarcely  less  beau- 
tiful than  the  Bay  of  Naples,  which  it  resembles  when  seen  from  a 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


419 


\ 

^%. 

'Ai^U. 

-*■.  1 

^ 

i^ 

Mm 

-•* 
■*■ 

~    '  "  -"'"^'"^  ,-  - 

^*^^:f^ 

I'KRCE    KOCK,     SOUTH    OF    GASl'E    HASIN. 


certain  jDoint.  In  the  hazy  distance  was  the  indistinct  line  of  the 
Gaspe  Chffs,  and  our  steamer  rapidly  making  her  way  to  the  Gulf. 
The  sun  lighted  up  most  beautifully  the  int.-nse  green  of  the  forests, 
which  were  broken  here  and  there  by  neat  white  cottages  and  their 
surrounding  patches  of  still  brighter  green.  Although  the  very  last 
of  June,  the  foliage  was  not  yet  burned  by  the  summer's  sun,  and  the 
grass  was  but  just  greening. 

Six  miles  from  the  settlement  the  road  became  a  mere  path,  antl 
we  took  to  our  saddles,  which  the  thoughtful  George  had  stowed  in 
our  two-horse  wagon.  Two  miles  farther  and  we  were  at  the  first 
pool  of  the  river  called  the  High  Bank  Pool.  We  determined  at 
once  to  try  it  and  throw  our  virgin  fly  for  salmon.  Setting  up  our 
rods,  we  scrambled  down  the  steep  gravel  bank  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  school-boys.  Insects  of  various  sorts  were  there  long  before  us, 
and  soon  we  were  compelled  to  send  Coffin  up  the  bank  for  our 
veils.  The  veils  used  are  of  the  thinnest  silk  barege,  in  form  of  a 
bolster-case  open  at  both  ends,  which  are  gathered  upon  rubber 
cords.  One  cord  goes  around  the  hat-crown  and  the  other  around 
the  neck  under  the  collar.  These  veils  perfectly  protect  the  face 
from  insects,  but  do  not  allow  smoking,  and  interfere  slightly  with 
the  vision  ;  I  therefore  discarded  them,  and  now  use  a  brown  linen 
hood  with  cape  buttoning  under  the  chin.  The  pests  were  so  per- 
sistent that  we  were  glad  to  put  on  linen  mitts,  which  tie  arountl  the 
elbow  and  leave  only  the  finger-tips  exposed.  Innally,  the  little 
brutes  drove  us  to  anointing  our  finger-tips  with  tar  and  sweet-oil,  a 
bottle  of  which  usually  hangs  by  a  cord  from  a  button  of  the  angler's 
coat.  A  philosophical  friend  once  insisted  that  it  only  required  the 
exercise  of  strong  will  to  endure  the  pests,  and  that  protection  was 


iii 

\- 


w  : 


*  \\ 


1: 


III 


I' 


'ti 


420 


Sa/jHon  -Fishing. 


i  •  ■ 

1 

i 

1 

:ir 

i:  i 

1 

1, 

'. 

II   'I  w 


i   i 


I^J 


1^,    '', 


rilK     SrRATKfllC    ANCI.I'.R. 


effeminate.    The  second  day,  he  looked  much  the  worse  for  wear,  his 
handsome  face  disfigured  with  swellings,  and  his  eyes  almost  closed 
from  the  poison  of 
the  bites. 

We  now  work- 
ed away  in  com- 
parative romfort 
until  I  saw  Lazell, 
who  was  afew  hun- 
dred feet  distant, 
suddenly  dash  off 
his  hat  and  com- 
mence slapping 
his  head  with  both 
hands  as  if  deter- 
mined to  beat  out 
his  brains.  I  con- 
cluded that  he  must  have  had  a  rise,  and  that,  contrary  to  his 
custom,  he  had  become  excited.  Going  to  him.  I  found  that  the 
black  flies,  baffled  at  all  other  points,  had  found  the  ventilating 
eyelet-hole  upon  each  side  of  his  hat-crown,  and  had  poured  in 
through  them  in  hordes  upon  the  top  of  his  unprotected  head. 
Getting  no  rise,  I  climbed  up  the  bank  to  await  my  more  perse- 
vering friend.  (It  may  be  noted,  in  passing,  that  we  learned  a  few 
days  later  that  we  had  not  cast  within  several  hundred  feet  of  that 
part  of  this  pool  where  salmon  usually  lie.)  Soon  my  friend's  head 
appeared  over  the  bank  with  apparently  a  good  stout  stick  thrust 
completely  through  it,  hat  and  all,  as  if  some  stray  Micmac  had  shot 
him  with  a  roughly  made  arrow.  The  solution  of  this  was  that 
Lazell  had  plugged  up  the  holes  in  his  hat  with  a  broken  rod,  and 
thus  cut  off  the  flies  from  their  favorite  foraging  grounds. 

It  is  a  fact  not  generally  known  that  the  farther  north  you  go, 
the  larger  and  more  venomous  are  the  moscjuitoes.  According  to 
the  late  lamented  Captain  Hall,  of  Arctic  fame,  one  knows  little  of 
the  annoyance  of  these  insects  who  has  not  been  in  Greenland  dur- 
ing the  summer  months.  After  a  summer  upon  the  Gaspe  streams, 
a  person  of  even  large  inquisitiveness  doesn't  long  for  any  more  in- 
formation upon  that  branch  of  natural  history.     The\-  are  so  trouble- 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


421 


Wf- 


m 


some  there  that,  to  fish  comfortably,  it  is  neces- 
sary to  protect  the  face  and  neck,  and  cover  the 
finger-tips  with  a  mixture  of  tar,  sweet-oil,  and 
pennyroyal.  Gaspe  insects  seem  fond  of  new- 
comers, and  our  blood  afforded  them  a  favorite  tipple. 
Seriously,  however,  we  were  not  much  inconven- 
ienced, as  we  took  every  known  precaution  against 
them,  and  not  only  had  our  rooms  thoroughly  smoked 
with  smudges,  but  kept  large  smoldering  fires  around  the 
houses  the  greater  part  of  the  time.  When  ladies  fish, 
a  smudge  is  kept  burning  upon  a  flat  stone  in  the  canoe. 
We  reached  our  comfortable  quarters  at  House  No.  i 
at  nine  w  m.  while  it  was  still  light.  We  found  that  our 
house  was  clapboarded,  and  contained  two  comfortable 
rooms;  one  with  berths  like  a  steamer's,  which  were 
furnished  with  hair  mattresses  and  mosquito-bars ;  the 
other  served  as  sitting  and  dining  room.  A  large  log 
house  adjoined  and  was  furnished  with  a  good  cooking- 
stove,  while  a  tent  was  already  pitched  to  serve  as  quarters  for  our 
men — five  in  number.  Stoves  and  furniture  are  permanent  fixtures 
of  the  houses  at  the  different  stations,  as  are  the  heavier  cooking- 
utensils,  so  that  in  moving  up  the  stream  one  has  merely  to  carry 
crockery,  provisions,  blankets,  and  mosquito-bars, — which  latter  are 
of  strong  thin  jute  canvas.  Above  the  first  house,  the  men  make  your 
beds  of  piles  of  little  twigs  of  the  fragrant  fir-balsam,  whose  beauties 
have  been  recorded  by  every  writer  upon  angling.  Near  each  house 
is  a  snow-house,  dug  into  the  hill-side  and  thickly  covered  with  fir- 
boughs  and  planks.  The  snow  is  packed  in  them  in  winter  by  the 
men  who  go  up  for  that  purpose  and  to  hunt  the  caribou  that  frequent 
the  hills  adjoining  the  river.  The  snow  lasts  through  the  season,  and 
is  more  convenient  than  ice.  If  one  drinks  champagne,  he  has  but  to 
open  a  basket  upon  his  arrival  and  imbed  the  bottles  in  the  snow,  and 
he  has  at  any  moment  di/rafipc  equal  to  Delmonico's  best.  The  fish 
as  soon  as  killed  are  packed  in  the  snow,  as  are  the  butter,  milk,  and 
eggs  when  brought  up  every  two  or  three  days  by  the  courier,  who 
remains  at  the  Basin  ready  to  start  for  you  at  any  moment  that  let- 
ters or  telegrams  arrive.  Our  courier  delighted  in  surprises  for  us 
such  as  baskets  of  native  strawberries  and  cream  for  our  dessert.  Ten 
27A 


I, 


■  U'.  \ 


t 


422 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


-( 


cents  at  Gaspe  buys  quite  a  large  basket  of  this  exquisitely  flavored 
wild  berry. 

I  have  been  thus  minute  in  describing  our  surroundings,  because 
I  believe  more  comfortable  and  complete  arrangements  are  found  on 
no  other  stream.  It  is  all  very  well  to  camp  out  under  an  open 
"  lean-to  "  or  tent,  and  e.xceedingly  healthful  and  enjoyable,  but  we 
rather  enjoyed  this  comfortable  way  of  living.  Standing  for  six  hours 
or  more  daily,  while  throwing  a  fly  or  killing  a  fish,  is  hard  work  for 
one  of  sc  Ifjntary  habits,  and  gives  enough  exercise  and  oxygen  to 
make  one  wish  for  good  living  and  quarters ;  and  with  this  open-air 
life  one  may  indulge  his  appetite  with  impunit)-  if  he  can  get  the 
food,  for  his  digestion  and  assimilation  are  at  their  best. 

The  difference  between  the  temperature  at  midday  and  midnight  in 
the  moi  it  '  ■  regions  along  the  Gaspe  salmon-streams  is  notable. 
One  da^  \i  as  •\  the  air  at  nine  a.  m.  was  74°,  at  tw'o  r.  m.  84°, 
and  at  half  pasi  :  even  r.  m.  51°.  We  were  anxious  to  get  approx- 
imately thf  temperature  of  the  water  of  these  northern  streams 
to  compare  with  r'le  v..  .  <^^  streams  farther  south,  which  had  been 
stocked  with  young  sali  ...n  y  Professor  Baird,  United  States  Fish 
Commissioner,  and  so  made  the  best  observations  possible  with  a 
couple  of  ordinary  thermometers.  At  the  bottom  of  one  pool  in  the 
York,  near  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  Creek,  which  is  a  roaring 
little  branch  of  the  York  coming  down  from  the  snow  of  the  neigh- 
boring mountains,  the  water  at  middaj'  was  but  40}^°  Fahrenheit, 
while  the  air  was  78°.  In  other  pools  on  this  river  we  found  the 
temperature  at  noon  to  be  44°  at  the  bottom  and  44^2°  at  the  sur- 
face, with  the  air  at  60°.  This  was  well  up  among  the  mountains, 
thirty-five  miles  above  the  mouth  of  the  river.  Lower  down  the 
stream,  48°  bottom,  485^^°  surface  ;  and  sometimes  after  a  very  warm 
day,  47^^°  to  48'_>°  at  eight  o'clock  i',  m.  Ten  or  fifteen  miles  dis- 
tant, upon  the  Dartmouth,  which  flows  through  a  less  mountainous 
country  and  has  longer  and  more  quiet  pools  and  less  shaded 
banks,  we  found  the  pools  varying  from  55°  to  59°  when  the  air 
was  60°  to  70°. 

Upon  the  first  morning  of  our  arrival,  we  e^id  not  get  up  at  three 
A.  M.,  when  the  day  was  just  dawning,  and  order  up  our  men  to  get 
breakfast.  We  had  been  in  northern  latitudes  before,  and  took  the 
precaution  to  hang  our  rubber  overcoats  over  the  windows  to  darken 


'      I 


I'KKCE    KOCK. 


423 


m 


15 


U 


1^1 


.1  ! 


lih 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


425 


MlMOIMT'Nl;. 


them,  thus  keep- 
ing out  the  early 
morniiiLj  Hirht  and 
securing  a  long 
night's  sleep.  Our 
first  day  openetl 
with  a  drizzling 
rain  which  forbade 
fishing.  After 

coming  a  thou- 
sand miles,  and 
with  but  six  clays' 
"  permit  "  upon 
our  stream,  a 
rainy  day  seemed 
like  a  misfortune. 
About  ten 
o'clock,  the  sun 
came  out,  and  I 
went  to  the  pool  directly  in  front  of  the  house,  to  practice  casting 
with  both  hands  as  well  as  get  used  to  standing  in  a  cranky 
canoe.  Soon  a  fish  rose  and  hooked  himself,  only  mrking  it  known 
by  spinning  off  a  few  feet  of  line  as  he  dropped  ba:k  to  position 
at  bottom  of  pool.  A  fish  will  thus  hook  himself  nine  times  in 
ten  if  the  fly  comes  slowly  over  him  with  a  taut  or  at  least 
straight  line  behind  it.  More  fish  are  lost  by  too  quick  striking 
them  than  by  other  bad  management.  The  steel-like  tip  of  the  rod 
upon  the  slighest  pull  at  the  fly  springs  forcibly  back  and  fixes  the 
hook  at  once.  I  had  resolutely  determined  never  to  strike,  and 
have  never  done  so.  I  may  have  lost  a  fish  by  it,  but  am  sure 
more  would  have  been  lost  by  striking,  (^f  course,  a  strong,  ([uick 
pull  is  given  after  the  fish  is  hooked  and  has  started  thi;  reel, 
in  order  to  imbed  the  hook  more  firml)-.  Soon  my  reel  was  furi- 
ously whirling.  I  had  read  about  the  "  music  of  the  reel "  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing  ad  nauseam,  as  I  had  often  exj^ressed  it; 
but  somehow,  after  hearing  a  salmon  in  his  first  fierce  run  upon  a 
reel  with  a  stiff  click,  the  wonder  was  that  peopl*,'  had  not  written 
more  about  it. 


m 


V't 


Hi 


1 

1  ' 

fi  " 

m 

'h 

la 


H'  ■.. 


426 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


One  cannot  afford  entirely  to 
i^niore  hook  teachinjjf.  Havinjr 
read  and  re-read  every  standard 
author  on  salmon-angling,  my 
rod-tip  was  at  once,  and  without 
thought,  lowered  when  this  lively 
little  fellow  made  his  first  leap  in 
the  air,  and  showed  the  beautiful 
silver  of  his  sides.      It  was  done 

just  as  the  fingers  strike  the  proper  key  upon  a  musical  instrument, 
when  the  player's  mind  is  too  far  away  perhaps  to  name  the  tune 
he  has  unconsciously  run  into.  Of  course,  if  you  do  not  lower 
your  rod-tip,  the  fish,  falling  upon  a  taut  line,  will  break  himself 
loose.  This  fish  showed  no  disposition  to  leave  the  pool  for  the 
rapids  below,  but  went  first  to  one  side,  and  then  to  the  other, 
sweeping  around  by  the  farther  shore,  and  jumping  clean  from 
the  water  each  time  he  turned.  It  was  impossible  to  keep  below 
him,  so  rapidly  did  he  change  place.  In  sjjite  of  all  the  strain 
which  could  be  safely  put  upon  him,  he  would  now  and  then  get  a 
hundred  feet  below  the  rod  and  rest  there  in  comparative  ease,  with 
the  force  of  the  current  balancing  my  strain  upon  him  in  an  opposite 
direction.  When  you  can  keep  abreast  of  your  fish,  or  a  little  below 
him,  the  current,  weight  of  line,  and  your  strain  of  two  or  three 
pounds  all  in  the  same  direction  will  soon  tire  him  out. 

Most  anglers  greatly  miscalculate  the   force  exerted  by  the  rod, 
and  will  speak  of  using  many  pounds'  strain.     An  actual  test  with  a 


Salmon  -  Fis/iing. 


427 


spring  balance  upon  various  rods  showed  that  rarely  is  a  strain  of 
three  pounds  put  upon  the  fish,  and.  in  fact,  few  rods  can  raise  a  four- 
pound  weight  at  the  end  of  a  line. 

As  my  fish  became  tired  and  slowly  passed  the  gaffer,  he  tried  to 
gaff  and  missed.  This  goaded  the  fish  to  more  desperate  running  and 
plunging  in  the  direction  of  a  projecting  tree-trunk  lying  upon  the 
water.  If  he  could  have  reached  it,  he  would  have  run  under  and 
then  jumped  back  over  it,  leaving  the  line  fast  while  he  broke  him- 
self free.  Soon  his  runs  were  shorter  and  his  jumps  less  frequent, 
and  finally,  from  very  weakness,  he  would  turn  upon  his  side.  I 
swung  him  gently  toward  the  gaffer,  who  in  his  eagerness  had  waded 
nearly  waist-deep  into  the  pool.  In  an  instant  the  fish  was  strug- 
gling at  the  end  of  the  cruel  gaff,  making  hard  work  for  the  man's 
brawny  arms,  and  in  a  moment  more  he  was  laid  upon  the  shore, 
where  old  William  Patterson  gave  him  the  coup  dc  grace  with  a 
stout  short  stick  carried  for  that  purpose  in  every  canoe.  Just  at  the 
moment  of  gaffing  many  fish  are  lost;  for  if  more  strain  is  e.xerted 
than  usual,  the  hook  breaks  out  of  the  well-worn  hole  in  the  jaw, 
and  if  the  strain  is  relaxed  a  moment  before  the  gaff  is  in,  the  slack 
line  lets  the  hook  drop  out  of  the  enlarged  opening. 

My  trip  and  trouble  had  not  been  in  vain,  as  my  first  salmon 
had  been  hooked  and  played  to  gaff  without  the  slightest  assistance. 
Before  putting  him  in  the  snow,  I  lighted  my  pipe  and  sat  quiedy  down 
to  admire  and  talk  to  him.  It  seemed  wonderful  that  the  little  thread 
of  silk-worm  gut  could  have  concjuered  so  brave  a  fish. 

Finding  but  few  fish  in  the  lower  pools,  we  broke  camp  on  Mon- 
day, and  set  out  for  House  No.  2,  at  what  is  called  the  Hig  Salmon 
Hole.  The  men  assured  us  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  pole  the 
canoes  with  ourselves  and  provisions  over  the  shoal  rapids,  and  that 
in  several  places  they  would  have  to  unload  and  make  a  "  carry."  In 
order,  then,  to  favor  our  men,  Mr.  Lazell  and  I  set  out  to  walk  the 
distance,  with  the  cook  to  show  the  way  and  carry  our  tackle.  We 
could  risk  the  wetting  of  our  extra  clothing  and  provisions,  but  did 
not  care  to  have  our  rods  floated  down  the  stream,  in  case  of  an 
overturn.  Of  itself  a  twelve-mile  walk  is  not  objectionable,  but 
when  one  must  climb  over  a  dozen  fallen  trees  at  every  hundred 
yards,  it  becomes  monotonous.  Six  miles  from  camp  we  came 
to   the  North  Fork,  a    roaring   brook   of  perhaps  eighteen  inches 


1^  ?; 


'!  IM: 


1  i 

f*'-' 

1 

\  ;' 

),, 

41 

,1 

\  .' 

.  ; 

i ;. 

,    . 

i^W 

';i 

It; 

If 

m  ' 

1  ; 

:    ! 
i  1 

428 

5lii 


.>^\.ll' 


i^^-..: 


v'-^/ 


':^(! 


Snlnioii  -  Fishing. 

in  depth.  LazcII,  with  his  wad- 
inj^-hoots,  stalkcil  triumphantly 
across,  wiiiic  the  cook  and  I 
went  down  a  ([uarter  of  a  mile 
to  cross  upon  a  tree  which,  s«»me 
years  aj^o,  had  fallen  anil  formed 
a  natural  hridjj^e.  Then;  was 
no  |)ath  ali>n^  this  wind-swept 
gorj^e,  and  trees  were  pileil  upon 
trees,  makinjf  many  wimifalls  to 
he  gott(;n  over.  At  the  end  of  a 
lonj^  half  hour  wi'  came  hack  to 
where  Lazell  was  awaitinjf  us. 
Could  we  havi:  met  the  man 
who  said  there  was  a  "pleasure 
in  the  pathless  woods,"  he  would 
have  fared  badl)-.  The  truth  was 
that  the  dead-wood  of  tin;  hridy^c 
had  broken  under  our  weight, 
and  we  were  wetter  than  if  we 
had  waded  the  branch.  Often  upon  this  trip  we  touched,  with  our  rod- 
cases  or  gaff,  the  partridges  which  unconcernedly  flew  up  and  lighted 
on  the  lower  branches  of  the  trees.  We  reached  the  pool,  and  killed 
a  fish  before  the  cani)es  arrived.  The  next  morning,  Annette,  Lazell's 
gaffer,  came  tumbling  down  from  a  trc;e  where  he  had  been  sent  to 
point  out  where  the  salmon  were  lying,  and  ran  to  the  house  yelling 
as  if  crazy,  "Mr.  Lazell  has  got  his  first  fish,  and  he's  a  whopper!" 
Sure  enough  he  had  on  a  fish,  and  it  commenced  sulking  at  once. 
He  had  lighted  his  pipe  and  taken  his  seat  just  where  one  of  Mr. 
Reynolds's  friends,  in  1873,  took  his  breakfast  while  holding  his 
sulking  fish  with  one  hand.  Having  gone  to  the  pool  with  my  light 
bamboo,  to  which  he  was  unaccustonied,  he  was  unprepared  for 
heavy  fighting,  as  he  felt  insecure  and  had  a  dread  of  breaking  it. 
Now  and  then,  by  rapping  on  the  metal  butt  of  the  rod  with  a  stone, 
the  vibrations  of  the  line  would  start  the  fish  into  making  a  short  run 
and  lazy  jump.  The  men  all  put  the  fish  at  thirty-five  pounds,  and 
they  are  rarely  more  than  a  pound  or  two  out  of  the  way.  Soon  the 
fish  began  quied)-  working  for  the  deepest  part  of  the  pool,  and  in 


THE    PATIENT    ANGl.KR. 


1      I 


!     ! 


S(i/nioN  -J  •is /ling. 


429 


spite  of  all  the  strain  my  fritind 
was  willinj^f  to  put  on  liiin,  tinally 
jfot  thcrt!  iin(U:r  the  ciij^^i'  of  a 
sharp  leiljfc;.  Th(r  salmon  com- 
menced sawinjr  iqjon  tlu;  lint; 
whenever  a  strain  was  hrouj^ht 
to  hear,  and  tiiis  ncettssitati-il 
j;ivinjf  line  at  once.  Alter  work- 
injj^  for  one  hour  and  forty  min- 
utes, the  leader  parted. 

Without  a  word,  Lazell  took 
his  own  _L,rrt'enheart  rod,  anil  in 
a  few  minutes  was  busily  cast- 
inj^  at  the  very  upper  imkI  of  the 
pool,  above  where  he  had  hoijked 
the  first  fish.  .\s  ^ood  fortune 
would  have  it,  he  soon  hookc;d  a 
larj^e  one  which  came  down  the 
pool  and  trit;d  the  same  game, 
but  h(.'  manajred  to  stop  him  and 
slowly  swing  him  away  from  the 
center  of  the  pool  each  time. 
Ouite  soon  tiie  lish  ran  and 
jumped  enough  to  weaken  him- 
self, and  was  brought  up  to  liie 
gaffer.  This  was  my  friend's 
first  salmon,  and  it  weighed 
thirty-three  pounds. 

The  skill  of  our  men  in  gaf- 
fing struck  us  as  remarkable,  for 
during  the  season  they  mis.sed 
for  us  but  a  single  fish.  Not  tlie 
same  romance  attaches  to  tliem 
as  to  Indians,  and  tiiey  do  not 
present  that  statuesque  appear- 
ance while  gaffing,  but  they  are 
a  thou.sand  times  more  reliable, 
and   always  know  better  where 


III 


I    '  ,1 


ii 


'\ 


ii 


m 


A    HAM'-HREKD    NETTING    SALMON. 


i 


430 


iikt 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


-I  \y^A  i 


.^  \ 


the  lish  lie,  and  how  quickest  to  aid  you  to  circumvent  and  kill  them. 
The  Gaspe  men  can  give  even  the  best  of  anglers  a  valuable  hint 
occasionally,  which  it  is  quite  safe  to  follow,  as  it  often  saves  a  fish. 
They  come  from  that  good  old  stock,  Scotch -English,  and  are  as 
true  as  steel.  Money  and  jewelry  were  safer  in  our  camps  than  at 
home  in  the  way  of  our  servants.  They  never  touch  a  drop  of 
liquor,  and  work  faithfully  from  morning  till  night.  Even  after  long 
and  tedious  hours  of  poling  up  rapid  streams,  under  a  hot  sun,  they 
are  ready  to  anticipate  your  slightest  wish.  All  the  men  ask  for, 
beside  fish,  is  pork,  hard  bread,  sugar,  and  black  tea.  Without  the 
latter  they  are  good  for  nothing.  They  make  the  tea  in  the  tea- 
kettle itself  and  drink  several  large  tincupfuls  at  a  sitting.  Follow- 
ing this  by  a  five  minutes'  pull  at  a  pipeful  of  navy  plug  tobacco, 
they  are  ready  for  work. 

In  favorable  seasons,  the  Big  Salmon  Hole  of  the  York  is  good  for 
two  or  three  fish  daily ;  and  as  Lazell  was  unable  to  walk  by  reason 
of  cooling  too  rapidly  after  our  twelve-mile  walk  it  seemetl  best  to 
leave  to  him  the  e.\clusive  use  of  this  and  the  other  pools  near  House 
No.  2.  On  Wednesdaj',  therefore.  I  set  out  for  the  Narrows,  near 
wliich  are  the  last  and  best  pools  of  the  river,  leaving  two  men  to 
come  with  the  canoe  and  luggage,  and  taking  one  with  me.  We 
arrived  before  noon,  and,  after  lunch,  carefully  inspected  the  pools. 
By  crawling  quietly  to  the  edge  of  low  cliffs,  or  climbing  trees,  we 
could  count  the  fish  by  scores,  lying  ciuietly  behind  small  stones  or 
just  at  the  edge  of  the  current,  with  heads  up-stream.  At  first,  one 
unaccustomed  to  it  only  sees  large  numbers  of  dark,  smooth  stones, 
as  he  e.xpresses  it ;  but  soon  a  little  wavy  motion  of  the  lower  end  of 
the  object  is  seen,  and  )Ou  find  that  thi;y  are  all  salmon,  only  the 
dark  backs  being  visible  as  jou  look  down  upon  them.  The\-  rest  in 
these  pools  for  several  days,  to  gain  strength  for  leaping  the  falls 
just  above.  Often  one  hundred  and  fifty  have  been  counted  in  the 
lower  or  long  pot)l  at  the  Narrows,  and  frecjuentl)'  not  more  than  a 
single  one  will  take  the  fly. 

The  matter  of  taking  a  fly  seems  to  be  one  of  sheer  sport.  It  is 
a  well  established  fact  that  salmon  eat  nothing  during  the  several 
months  they  remain  in  the  rivers.  Before  entering  the  Gaspe  streams 
they  gorge  themselves  with  capelin,  a  small  fish  resembling  our  smelt. 
Quite  often  fish  which  we  killed  at  the  lowest  pools  had  undigested 


W':;, 


ml^ 


msmmmm 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


431 


;m. 


parts  of  capelin  in  their  stomachs.  As  their  ditjestion  is  known  to  be 
very  rapid,  this  indicates  a  high  rate  of  speed  against  a  swift  current 
up  fierce  rapids  and  over  falls.  A  bit  of  dried  leaf  seems  to  amuse 
them  as  much  as  an  artificial  fly.  Dropping  a 
leaf  quietly  off  a  tree  into  a  pool,  we  could  see 
a  salmon  rise  and  take  it,  and  after  getting  to 
the  bottom  open  his  mouth  and  let  it  float  up 
to  the  surface  again,  when  other  fish  would  take 
it,  one  after  the  other,  apparently  enjoying  the 
sport  like  kittens  at  play.  So  distinctly  could 
we  see  the  salmon  that  we  easily  traced  the 
scars  of  the  nets,  which  are  found  on  large 
numbers.  Many  we  take  have  an  eye  entirely- 
blinded  from  the  wound  made  bj-  the  twine.  At 
one  time,  just  under  the  upper  falls,  I  was  for  some  fifteen  minutes 
so  near  a  salmon  that  I  could  have  touched  him  with  the  entl  of  my 
rod.  The  water  was  shallow  and  clear,  and  gave  a  good  opportunity 
of  closely  watching  the  king  of  fishes  as  he  majestically  sailed 
around,  probably  wondering  whether  he  would  succeed  in  his  leap 
over  the  falls.  Dozens  of  his  fellows  were  coming  up  at  intervals  to 
look  at  the  falls,  but  not  one  couKl  be  tempted  to  take  the  slightest 
notice  of  any  fly  in  our  books,  although  we  were  out  of  their  sight 
and  threw  our  flies  within  a  few  inches  of  their  noses. 

We  had  with  us  rods,  reels,  gaffs,  and,  unfortunately,  a  new  and 
untested  package  of  leaders.  The  run  of  the  first  fish  hooked  parted 
a  leader.  A  second  leader  shared  the  same  fate ;  and  a  third  was 
taken  by  a  salmon  who  determined  to  leave  the  [)ool  and  go  down 
the  rapids  below.  Testing  our  leaders  with  the  spring  balance,  we 
broke  them  at  a  pound  or  pound  and  a  half  strain,  although  they  had 
previously  received  a  thorough  soaking.  We  were  in  a  bad  predica- 
ment ;  salmon  everywhere  ;  pools  full  of  them,  and  seeming  eager 
to  rise,  and  no  suitable  leaders  with  which  to  take  them.  We  ;nade 
the  best  of  it,  and  with  what  patience  we  could,  await<  d  the  canoe 
with  our  large  fly-books  containing  new  gut.  I'rom  tliis  we  after- 
ward tied  leaders  which  stood  a  strain  of  fi\'e  pounds,  and  were  soon 
engaged  in  trying  to  overcome  a  strong,  lively  fish. 

Presently  our  head  man  sung  out,  "  You  must  lose  your  fish  or  get 
a  drenching."  A  small  dark  cloud  came  over  the  near  mountain,  trav- 


■  J! 


!       'it 


432 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


I 
ft  ill  I' 


M 


'I 

nf  1 
H 

W 

'I' 

kii    < 


If  ,1 


lj 


I 


!l' 


fi  i 


1<     Fj 


.1  I 


eled  rapidly  down  the  gorge,  and  before  one  of  the  men  could  bring*  a 
rubber  coat  from  the  house,  a  few  hundred  yards  distant,  the  rain  was 
pouring  upon  us.  The  rapidity  with  which  heavy  showers  follow 
down  the  gorges  and  course  of  the  streams  at  Gaspe  is  somewhat 
startling  ^r>  a  new-comer.  Of  course,  the  fish  must  at  all  hazards  be 
killed ;  and,  of  course,  this  particular  fish  was  not  in  half  the  hurry 
to  come  in  out  of  the  water  that  we  were,  but  tried  our  patience  in 
many  ways,  sometimes  taking  us  in  the  canoe  where  we  couldn't 
wade,  and  sometimes  through  quite  deep  water  where  we  did  not 
wish  to  take  the  canoe  and  disturb  the  pool.  It  was  thirty-five  min- 
utes before  faithful  old  William  had  him  quiet  at  the  bottom  of  the 
canoe.  He,  as  well  as  all  our  men,  preferred  to  get  us  into  a  canoe 
before  gaffing,  when  practicable,  for  they  then  felt  much  more  sure 
of  the  fish.  The  Gaspe-built  canoes  are  very  long,  and  if  the  angler 
passes  one  of  the  men  and  steps  to  the  extreme  end,  he  can  with  per- 
fect ease  swing  the  fish  to  the  gaffer  at  the  other  end,  always  taking 
great  care  not  to  reel  in  his  line  beyond  its  junction  with  the  leader. 
If  he  does  this  and  the  gaffer  misses,  or  the  tired  fish  gets  up  life 
enough  for  a  short  spurt,  then  the  knot  sticks  in  the  tip  ring,  and 
good-bye  to  fish  and  tip.  It  is  with  some  reluctance  that  we  differ 
with  so  good  an  authority  as  Norris,  in  his  "  American  Anglers' 
Book,"  but  we  prefer  canoe  gaffing.  We  were  all  thoroughly  soaked 
with  rain,  and  I  was  i).dditionally  uncomfortable  from  having  gone 
over  the  tops  of  my  rubber  wading  stockings  in  water,  which  at  two 
V.  M.  was  only  42°  Fahrenheit.  As  there  were  but  three  hours  more 
of  this  the  last  day  of  our  permit,  we  could  not  afford  to  lose  a  moment. 
As  soon  as  the  sun  came  out,  I  hooked  a  second  fish,  and  worked 
away  busily  until  in  the  three  pools  I  had  killed  five,  when  I  stopped, 
wearied  as  well  as  satisfied  with  salmon-fishing,  resisting  our  man's 
most  urgent  entreaties  to  "kill  another,  and  make  it  a  half  dozen."  I 
have  never  made  a  large  score  or  killed  a  very  large  fish,  but  this  work 
of  three  hours  and  a  half  was  quite  satisfactory,  and  is  here  given : 

[    l'"i.sh  of  21  lbs..   Fairy   Fly. 

J  .1  ..        TT  II  11  .. 

I      "      "    24     "      Jock  Scott  Fly. 
I      "      "    2M2"      Silver  Doctor  Fly. 
I       "      "    23     "      Silver  Gray        " 

5  II2!-;-     Average,  22'..  lbs. 


|l'  ' 


■(        f 


. 


w^ 


Sahiioii  -Fishing. 


433 


The  healthful  excitement  as  well  as  open  air  exercist-  enabled  us 
without   ill  effects  to  endure   this   three  and  a   half  hours'  wettinj^-. 

At  half-past  four  a.  m.  next  day.  the  canoe  went  down  with  the 
fish,  and  I  walked  to  Middle  House,  where  1  found  Lazell  in  j^ood 
spirits   over  one    thirty-three    pound    fish    and   other   smaller   ones. 


Hastily  packing-,  we  set  out  in  our  canoes  for  House  No.  i,  where 
we  took  in  additional  fish  and  hitru^a^e.  Running-  down  the  rapids 
between  sharp  rocks,  both  out  of  the  water  antl  under  its  surface, 
where  all  your  safety  depends  upon  the  accuracy  of  \()ur  men's 
knowledL,fe,  their  nerve,  and  the  strengtii  of  rather  slender  spruce 
settint^-poles,  is  quite  exciting-  to  a  novice.  At  the  wortl  "  check 
her"  from  okl  William  at  thi;  stern,  young  James  throws  his  entire 
weight  sudtlenl)'  upon  his  pole  in  the  bow.  Several  times  the  pok.' 
broke,  anil  necessitateti  cjuick  work  in  drop])ing  tin;  piece's  and  grasp- 
ing a  second  one.  which  is  always  ke|)t  within  reach  in  running 
rapids.  Upon  breaking  a  seconil  one,  in  all  likelihood  we  woukl 
have  got  an  extremely  unlucky  dipping. 

We  reached  (laspe  the  same  tlay,  having  made  thirt\  -five  miles 
since  half-past  four  .\.  m.,  and  were  in  time  to  have  our  fish  packed  in 
snow  anil  forwarded  by  the  afternoon  steamer  for  Quebec.  l*'or 
transportation,  the  fish  an;  first  "drawn"  through  the  gills,  then  filled 
with  snow  and  packed  two  in  a  box.  The  snow  is  then  rammeil 
solid  around  them  until  it  resembles  in  consistency  a  cake  of  ice,  ami 
the  box  is  placed  insiile  of  a  much  larger  one.  Ihe  space  between 
the  two  boxes  is  now  filled  with  sawdust.  .\t  (_)ueb(;c.  the  boxes  arc 
examined  and  refilled,  if  necessary,  before  forwarding  by  rail.  Our  fish 
left  Ciaspe  Thursday,  were  in  Boston  in  good  condition  the  Tuesday 
following,  and  were  served  at  the  .Somerset  Club  just  a  week  after  the\ 
were  killed.   With  ice  in  place  of  snow,  the  packing  is  usually  a  failure. 

l'"inding  a  letter  at  Ciaspe  inviting  us  to  fish  tiie  Dartmouth,  we 
went  over  to  that  river  on  July  loth,  taking  horses  to  a  place  calletl  b\ 
28 


n 


:    ;i 


"i|  Y- 


434 


Salmon  -  Fis/ii/ig. 


\W\ 


the  habitants  Lancy  Cozzens,  which  we  presumed  to  he  a  cor- 
ruption of  L'lriisc  atix  cousins.  hVom  this  point  we  proceeded  bj- 
an  invention  of  our  own.  One  of  the  three  canoes  had  a  small 
sail,  and  holding  another  canoe  by  our  hands  upon  each  side  of  it, 

we  voyaged  very  independentl)- 
until  we  tried  to  tack  under  a 
very  stiff  breeze — a  performance 
which  didn't  take  place  exactly 
to  suit  us.  Reaching  the  nar- 
rower part  of  the  stream,  we 
took  our  setting-poles  in  ortho- 
dox fashion,  and  soon  reached 
camp,  where  we  found  a  com- 
modious wall-tent  ready  pitched, 
and  all  needed  cooking-utensils, 
as  well  as  a  salmon  for  supper, 
left  in  the  house  by  some  de- 
parting friends. 

The  sea-trout  had  just  com- 
menced running  up  the  river, 
and  gave  us  most  serious 
annoyance.  The  sea-trout  is 
anadromous,  and  follows  up  the 
salmon  some  weeks  later.  An 
old  trout-angler  believes  you 
not  quite  sane,  and  much  less 
serious  and  truthiui,  when  you 
positively  assure  him  that  oftentimes  before  )ou  can  reach  a  salmon 
you  must  ])lay  to  gaff  a  half-dozen  or  more  sea-trout,  varying  in 
weight  from  one  to  five  pounds.  That  a  five-pound  trout  can  be  an 
annoyance,  and  a  serious  one  at  that,  isn't  readily  comprehended.  You 
can't  hurry  a  large  trout,  but  must  play  and  tire  him  out.  Occasion- 
ally your  man  from  a  tree-top  will  tell  you  just  where  a  fine  salmon  is 
lying,  and.  perhaps,  that  he  started  for  the  fly  and  missed  it  at  your 
last  cast.  I'he  next  cast,  a  sea-trout,  which  is  ([uicker  than  a  salmon, 
snatches  your  fly  the  moment  it  strikes  the  water,  and  in  the  next 
few  minutes  flounders  all  over  the  pool,  putting  an  effectual  stop 
to  salmon-fishing.       Now   is   the   time    for  self-control  —  for   cpiietly 


t!^ 


■Bi 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


435 


lightin^t,^  a  cigar  and  strolling  back  to  camp.  Sometimes  an  irasci- 
ble angler  seizes  the  trout  the  moment  he  is  off  the  hook  and  hurls 
him  vindictively  against  the  cliff  ^ 

This  same  abused  sea-trout,  however,  when  broiled  before  the 
fire  in  an  open  wire  broiler,  with  a  bit  of  salt  pork  clamped  upon  him, 
or  rolled  in  buttered  and  wetted  papers,  and  roasted  under  the 
embers,  is  preferable  to  salmon,  and  is  more  often  eaten  by  the 
Gaspe  anglers.  The  sea-trout  and  the  common  brook-trout,  Sa/iiio 
fontiiialis,  are  taken  side  b)-  sitle  in  the  same  pools ;  and  so  great  is 
the  apparent  dissimilarity,  that  it  seems  impossible  that  they  are  one 
and  ihe  same  species,  the  sea-trout  merely  being  changed  by  his  trip 
to  sea,  as  some  naturalists  assert.  The  spots  on  the  brook-trout  are 
much  more  clearly  defined,  and  have  the  light  color  upon  their  edges, 
while  the  markings  of  the  sea-trout  seem  not  to  be  distinct  spots  so 
much  as  irregular  markings  akin  to  those  of  the  mackerel.  This  is 
as  it  appears  to  us  who  are  not  naturalists. 

It  is  notable  that  although  the  three  Ciaspe  rivers  fiow  into  the 
same  hay,  and  for  long  distances  within  a  few  miles  of  each  other,  \et 
the  fish  are  so  different  as  to  be  readily  distinguished  one  from 
another  by  the  nativ(;s.  The  fish  run  up  earliest  in  the  \'ork,  and 
those  taken  even  in  the  lowest  pools  are  of  larger  size  than  thost;  of 
the  other  streams.  Of  course,  those  that  are  strong  enough  to  get  to 
the  upper  pools  early  in  the  season  before  the  river  has  rim  down  are 
extremeU'  large.  The  last  runs  of  fish  in  the  York  are  perhaps  a 
trifle  smaller  than  the  general  average  of  the  St.  John,  where  the 
earl\-  and  late  runs  are  of  more  nearly  the  same  average  size.  .So 
the  fish  of  the  Ta\-,  in  .Scotland,  are  a  month  earlier  than  those  of  the 
Tweed,  and  presumably  in  this  case  because  the  snow  gets  out  ot  the 
former  much  the  sooniM".  The  fish  of  the  St.  John  are  slightly  shortc;r 
and  fuller  than  those  of  the;  \'ork,  resembling  mort;  nearly  the  Sii/ii/o 
(jiiiunat  of  California.  .\  few  seasons  since,  the  St.  Jolui  was  so 
jammed  with  the  logs  ot  a  broken-up  lumber  raft  that  the  fish  were 
blocked  out  of  it,  and  that  year  its  peculiar  fish  were  taken  in  the 
York.  The  ne.\t  \ear,  the  St.  John  was  clear,  and  its  fish  went  l)ack 
to  it.  .\  few  seasons  later  grilse  and  voung  salmon  were  taken  in 
the  York  which  slightly  resembled  the  St.  John  fish.  The  parent 
fish  returned  to  their  own  stream.  Their  offspring,  which  were 
hatched  in  the  York,  remained  in  that  river. 


\\       ' 


'■    A 


"  ii'Jl 


<i 


l»s< 


!^! 


iH 


1.1 


1' 

1! 

ii 

f 

1 

1 

il 


r-ll' 


i/ 


I  ^  I 


iii:' 


436 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


extreme  northern  of  the  three  rivers,  the 
so-called  niyhtin^jales  are  singiny;  con- 
tinually, commencing^  at  three  a.  m.,  at 
the  first  gray  of  the  morning.  These 
birds  are  pro])al)ly  a  kind  of  sparrow,  and 
/•  by  no  means  true   nightingales  ;*  but  so 

sad  and  sweet  were  their  plaintive  notes,  that  by  a  son 
of  fascination  we  would  lie  awakt;  to  listen,  at  the  ex- 
pense of  some  hours  of  needed  sleep.  During  two  sea- 
sons upon  the  other  two  rivers,  only  a  few  miles  distant, 
not  one  was  heard.  After  some  practice  in  imitating  them,  we 
thought  the  following  musical  notation  gave  a  very  gooti  idea  of 
the  song,  which  varied  slightly  with  different  birds,  and  at  different 
times  with  the  same  bird.  Between  each  double  bar  is  a  single  .song. 
Numbers  i  and  2  are  different  songs  of  one  bird,  and  Numbers 
3  and  4  are  songs  of  ancjther  bird. 

■  dnUaiiic.  ^.  1  *  ['riic  wliite-tliroated  s|)arrow  f /<)•///- 

,!,7'//(/  tilbiaillis,  Wilson).  During  sjiring- 
like  (lays  in  Decemhcr,  while  huiuing 
Hoi)  White  in  the  South,  I  ha\e  often 
heard  the  soft,  melancholy  whistle  of  this 
little  songster,  recalling  to  me.  with  "a 
feeling  of  sadness  and  longing,"  the 
blessed  solitudes  and  the  summer  scents 
of  the  Northern  woods.] — P'.Diidu. 


#^FffJ-<^-jyjl 


Ii 


'm^j^^aaggsBamm 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


437 


The  terms  of  lease  of  a  Canada  salmon-stream  require  the  lessee; 
to  maintain  a  guardian  upon  the  river  at  his  own  expense.  A  com- 
fortable log-house  of  a  single  room  is  usually  built  just  below  the 
first  pools,  and  the  guardian  occupies  it  during  the  few  months  of  the 
angling  and  spawning  season.  This  expense  is  quite  light,  some- 
times only  a  hundred  dollars  in  gold.  In  addition,  the  Ciovernment 
appoints  and  pays  overseers,  who  are  assigned  to  special  districts, 
and  are  expected  rigidly  to  enforce  the  law  regulating  the  net  fishing 
in  the  tidal  part  of  the  rivers,  and  particularly  to  .see  that  the  nets  are 
taken  up  over  Sunday.  The  Gaspe  rivers  flow  through  so  wild  and 
inaccessible  a  country  that  it  is  impossible  for  poachers  to  reach  the 
pools  and  carry  away  fish  in  large  quantities  except  in  canoes,  which 
must  pass  the  guardian's  house. 

If  the  Government  would  offer  a  bounty  for  every  sheklrake 
killed,  it  would  greatly  aid  in  keeping  the  streams  better  stocked. 
In  the  stomach  of  a  young  sheldrake  will  be  found  sometimes  six  or 
more  pan\  as  the  young  of  salmon  are  called.  When  we  consider 
the  numliers  of  broods  raised  each  year  on  a  stream,  and  that  both 
\oung  and  old  are  gormandizing  parr  all  day  long,  we  see  that  thou- 
sands upon  thou.sands  of  fish  are  yearly  lost  in  this  way  alone. 
These  little  parr,  by  the  way,  often  bite  at  the  fl\-,  which  is  so  large 
for  them  that  they  can  only  grasp  some  of  its  feathers,  and  hang  on 
so  well  that  you  throw  them  several  \ards  as  you  withdraw  to  make 
a  fresh  cast.      The  finger-marks  or  l)ars  identify  them  at  a  glance. 

One  evening,  while  on  the  I  )artmouth,  we  were  surprised  by  a 
visit  from  the  guardian  and  the  overseer,  who  came  to  dine  and 
spend  the  night  with  us.  They  bragged  a  little  of  a  big  fish  the 
overseer  had  captured  in  an  unaccountably  short  time.  Upon  exam- 
ining the  tackle,  we  found  that  the  line  practically  ended  at  the  reel, 
where  it  joined  a  worthless  cord,  and  that  even  this  apology  for  a 
line  had  not  been  wetted.  The  rod  was  a  shaky  affair,  that  couldn't 
possibly  kill  a  lively  five-pound  trout.  The  hook  was  covered  thickly 
with  rust.  In  their  canoe  we  found  a  fish  of  over  thirty  pounds.  One 
eye  was  covered  with  an  opaque  substance  which  had  grown  over  it 
on  the  line  of  an  old  net  scar.  The  other  eye  had  across  it  a  recent 
Cut,  which  had  totally  destroyed  its  sight.  The  fish  was  then  totalh' 
blind,  and  in  all  likelihood  had  broken  out  of  a  net  a  few  nights 
before.  These  cunning  jokers  had  made  a  sharp  and  well-defined 
28a 


,ii> 


I 


438 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


i      I 


i5 


5ll 

■'•.  1 

.     ■    i 

'11  h 

1 

1! 

!l 

'  1 

1- 

i 
1 

kivi;r  craft  on   tiik   st.   i.awhi.nci.. 


cut  in  the  jaw  where  fish  are  usually  hooked,  and  they  had  staffed  iiim 
as  he  lay  unable  to  see  the  a|)proach  of  the  canoe.  We  were  ,t,dad  that 
they  JKul  thus  savi'd  the  fish  from  a  lin^frinj^  death,  sooner  or  later, 
by  starvation  ;  but  raising  a  blind  fish  to  a  fiv.  and  killiniL,^  him  with  a 
rickety  bait  rod  ami  worthless  lini',  was  too  much  for  our  credulit\. 
We  never  informed  them  that  wi-  hatl  seen  throug^h  their  little  fish- 
stor\-.  antl  presume  that  they  had  many  a  laui^di  at  havinjj;^  maile 
"  .States"  nn-n  believe  that  blintl  salmon  couKl  be  taken  with  a  ll\ . 

\\'eilnesda\-,  |ul\  15th,  found  the  usually  (juiet  ami  sleep\  littU' 
settlement  ot  daspe  in  iireat  commotion.  .Some  peopk'  were  out  on 
the  house-tops  with  spy-olasses.  and  others  rusiiin,!^'  down  to  the 
wharf  whert'  a  ^oodK'  number  hail  alread\  collecti;d.  (ioini:;'  to 
the  upi)er  rooms  ot  the  (iaspe  Hotel,  to  which  we  had  just  come 
from    tin;    Dartmouth,   we    saw    a    beautifid    jacht    coming    rapidly 


Salmon  -  h'i siting. 


439 


Uj)  till!  Hasin  iiiultM-  lull  sail.  Soon  slu-  was  ahn-asl  llic  wliart, 
j^Mvin^  ail  a  view  of  Ikt  ('X(|iiisiU'  proportions,  and,  passin_i,r  slowl\ 
up  where  the  ^'ork  merj^cs  itselt  in  the  wat<rs  of  the  Hay,  j^jrace- 
fully  s\vunj4'  ''ito  position  anil  ilro|)peil  anchor.  .Sli.  was  the 
'•  I'alnier,"  well  known  in  hoth  this  country  anil  Europe  lor  her 
victor)  ovi-r  the  "  Canihria,"  and  famous  as  well  for  i)ein_!^  the  winner 
of  numerous  other  races.  Soon  we  received  a  call  from  htT  owner, 
Mr.  Rutherfurd  Stu\ vesant,  who  was  to  have  the  N'ork  the  rest  of 
the  season.  .\  iittli;  later  we  met  liie  rest  of  his  party,  and  wen- 
invited  to  p;(ss  the  eveniiiL;  on  hoard  the  yaciit.  Ihe  ladies  had 
braved  a  ten  days'  voyajLje  from  New  \'ork,  and  part  of  it  in  very 
roujfh  weather,  off  what  sailors 
call  the  "nastiest  of  coasts,"  am' 
were  to  hra\e  the  mosquitoes  am 
black  Hies  as  well, — hoping  to 
rival  the  Countess  I  )ufferin,  who 
had  a  few  weeks  before  thrown  a 
f1y,  hooked  and  played  to  _s^aft"  a 
larjre  tish  upon  the  -St.  John. 

We  return<.'il  home  l)y  the  ".Se- 
cret," leisurely  stoppinjj^  at  various 
points,  as  our  fancy  dictated.  While 
at   a   certain    place,   thi:    steamer 


m  ■\ 


i«  \m.. 


THE    COLNTESii    <U'    DLIFURIN    P(J01.,    ST.    JOH.N     KIVLK. 


440 


Sn/nion-Fis/ii/ig. 


lij 


1 1' 


touchc'il  with  tlu;  mail,  ami  was  to  remain  two*  hours.  Coiihl  the 
mail  he  opened  at  once,  and  we  receive  our  letters,  we  mij^ht  wish 
to  hurry  on  by  that  very  steamer.  We  therefore  l)r()ii!^hl  all  our 
forces  to  hear  upon  the  obdurate  postmaster,  to  inihic<;  him  to  o|)en 
the  -.mail  pouch  with  mail  for  his  office,  ami  j^ivc  us  our  letters  at 
once  while  i\w.  steamer  was  still  at  the  landing;.  His  constanl 
repl\'  was:  "It  cawnt  be  done,  (iovernment  business  cawnt  be 
hurried.      The  mail  is  too  lawjjj^e,  too  lawy;^." 

When  the  steamer  arrivetl,  he  was  the  first  to  board  her.  lie 
chatted  c()use(iuentiall\  with  the  officers  for  more  than  an  hour. 
They  were  all  on  our  side,  and  trieil  apparently  to  shake  him  ofl'. 
hinally,  with  the  little  pouch  (which  he  wouldn't  intrust  to  his  clerk 
—  also  on  our  side)  under  his  arm,  he  slowK'  and  with  the  firm, 
determined  tread  of  a  militia  captain  on  traininjj^-day,  mo\i'il  off 
toward  the  post-ofhce.  hifteen  minutes  would  havi-  sufficed  to 
distribute  the  mail  ;  but  not  until  the  steamer's  last  whistle  \)\v.\\  did 
he  put  the  letters  into  tiie  bo.xes.  He  reckonetl  without  his  host, 
however  ;  for  a  frieml  was  ([uietly  watchinL,^  and  in  an  instant  took 
our  letters  and  started  for  the  steamer  at  full  run,  yelling-  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  (iood  old  Captain  Davison  just  then  remembered  that 
he  had  for^rotten  somethin>(,  and  took  time  enough  with  the  steamer's 
ai^ent  to  enabk'  us  to  j^lance 
hastily  over  our  l(;tters,  and 
ascertain  that  we  could  jj^o  by 
that  steamer. 

In  i''^74.  Mr.  Curtis  ex- 
changed his  old  river,  the  St. 
lohn,  for  the  Dartmouth,  in 
order  that  the  former  mi(;ht  be 
set  aside  for  the  (iovernor  Gen- 
eral. Karl  Dufferin  havintr  been 
called  to  l{n!L,danil  in  the  sum- 
mer of  I1S75,  it  fell  to  Mr.  Ciir- 
tis's  lot  to  have  the  use  of  both 
streams,  and  I  accompanied  him 
tor  a  few  weeks'  recreation. 

To  reach  our  stream  from 
daspe,  we  were  oblijred  to  take 


I'AKT    OF    Till'.     FUN. 


Salmon  -  Ju's/iiiiij^. 


44  [ 


ourselves  ami  all  our  luj^jj^aj^e  across  the  swollen  \'ork  l>y  rcpcali-d 
trips  ill  a  small  cliiy-oiit.  at  a  place  some  six  miles  from  its  moiitli. 
After  crossint;-,  our  provisions  ami  him^ajL^i;  were  taken  in  larj^c 
l)o.\es  moimted  upon  stout  limhi-r  sled-runni-rs,  this  hein^  the  only 
conveyance  that  would  stand  a  nine-mile  trip  over  a  slii^htl)  widened 
forest  trail.  We  took  saddle-horses,  hut  \-et  found  the  trip  most 
tedious  l)y  reason  of  the  "winilfalls"  which  had  to  he  iiil  awa\  l)\ 
our  canoe-men,  who  carritHl  axes  for  the  purpose,  and  h\  the  swamp 
nuid  throiijfh  which  \vi'  fre([uenlly  had  to  wadt;  our  horses. 

Tlu'  fishing  of  1S75  was  comparatively  a  failure,  less  than  twenty 
hein_i(  killed  h)-  three  of  us  durini;'  a  wei'k  on  the  St.  John.  A  frii'ud 
of  mine,  I  )ou_y;lass,  one  day  hooked  an  u^lx'  fish,  which  played  him 
all  known  pranks,  ami  seemed,  in  addition,  to  i;xtemporize  a  l<w  tor 
the  occasion.  The  fish  leajK'il  out  of  water  eiiouj^h  to  make  it  excit- 
ing-, hut  not  iMiou_t,di  to  tire  himself  out.  lie  tried  pullinj,'  constanlU 
hackward  and  forward  in  cjuick,  short  jerks,  which  is  the  worst  tliint^a 
fish  ever  does.  This  makes  the  coolest  angler  ner\ous  and  anxious, 
for  unless  line  is  upon  the  instant  j^iven,  the  hook  is  pulled  out,  or  the 

<nit    hrokeii.        The    lisli 


cailK;  tlowil  HI  view  01 
the  house,  when,  com- 
paring^ the  pluck  and 
strati'iL^y  of  the  fish  with 
thi'  skill  of  our  friemi, 
we  counteil  tlu;  tisli  a 
trifle  aheatl.  ( )f  course, 
when  m.-ar  t-ither  hank, 
the  nuMi  took  care  to 
keep  on  the  shore  side 
of  the  fish,  so  that  wlic  11 
he  suddenly  rushed  for 
deep  water  he  would  not 
pass  under  the  lanoe 
and  hreak  loose.  In  s])ite,  liowe\-er,  of  all  prc;cautions,  the  fish  made 
a  dash  to  run  under,  and  out-  of  the  men  .^ave  a  (|uick,  powerful 
push  on  his  settini^-pole,  which  unfortunately  rested  upon  a  flat, 
slippery  rock.  The  next  instant  our  view  w.is  cut  off  hy  an  immense 
pair  of  carihou   hiile   hoots,    which    seemed    suspendeil    in    mid-air. 


KQl  Al.     In    TIIK     KMl-.HCKNCY. 


ill 


n 

i' 

' .' 

442 


Salmon  -  lu'shini^. 


i 

\\            n: 

1 

(■■'■■' 

^1     I: 

1 

-'         i: 

f    i 

riic  tish  was  just  at  the  canoe,  aiul  tin;  j^rccnliLarl  was  takinj;  the 
last  possibU;  ounce  of  strain.  I'he  line  couKl  not  run  out  fast  enouj^h 
to  relieve  tlie  rod,  and  we  awaited  its  snapping;.  Iu|ual  to  the  emer- 
gency, I  )ou^hiss,  rt'menihering  an  old  trick  of  Curtis's.  threw  the 
rod  behind  him,  and  with  reel  end  in  the  wat(;r  and  the  tip  rinj;  rest- 
inj^f  on  the  edi^'c  of  th(r  canoe,  the  line  ran  safely  and  swiftly  out. 
Dou^dass  tiien  tired  and  killed  his  fish,  which  weigiied  fifteen  pounds 
— about  the  average  of  the  .St.  John  tish. 

The  non-anjL.dinjjf  Header  by  this  tinu;  surmises  that  the  only  way 
to  brini^  a  salmon  to  the  iraff  is  to  tir(;  him,  by  keeping  a  constant 
steady  strain  upon  him,  with  the  shortest  |)racticable  line.  I'he 
i^^reatest  ilextt-rity  and  skill  of  the  anj^der  antl  his  men  are  recjuired 
to  ke(!p  the  canoe  always  in  such  a  relation  to  the  fish  as  to  make 
this    possible.      Half  your    score    depends    upon    the    (|uickness    of 

the  men,  who  must,  if  \ou  are 
on  sh(jrc,  i)e  so  near  \ou  with 
the  canoe  that  if  the  fish  starts 
down  a  rapid,  they  can  take  you 
in  upon  the  instant,  anil  follow 
him.  Mow  patientl)'  wouUl  our 
faithful  fellows  sit  on  the  cross- 
bar of  the  canoe,  and  only  now 
and  then,  when  the-  flies  and 
mosquitoes  were  unusually  trou- 
blesome, break  silence  with  "  I 
don't  care  if  I  do  take  a  little  o' 
yer  //!'-//(•." 

To  i^ive  tin-  sj^eneral  reader 
an  idea  of  liie  way  in  which  anijlers  make  up  their  scores  for  dis- 
tribution amoni^  their  friends,  we  _sj[ive  an  old  one,  which  still  stands 
anion*;  the  best  made  in  .\merica : 

]■".  Curtis's  Scon;  of  Salmon- I'lshinj;.  \'ork  River.  Lower  (';in;i(l;i,  for  one  evenin;,'  ,ini1 
the  following  (ia\,  icSyi. 

l\Vi>     Mni:u>.      |MrKSI>A\      KVlA'INc;,     ll'I.V     (). 

I  I'ish.  i,S  jiounds  weight fly.  Jock  Scott. 

I      ••  22         •'  ■■  ••  Roliin. 

1     ••  25         ••  ••  ••  R()l)in. 

I     •■  j()         ••  '■  •'  Silver  Doctor. 


"A     1.1  11  1.1.    O      Vr.K     1-1,Y-M,K 


1^ 


S(t/inoii  -  /'is/iiui^.  443 

KKIhAN,   Jl  I.\      7. 

I  l''ish,  34    poiimls  wci(.'l)t t1\.  Curtis. 

I  "  jj  ■•  "  "  Curtis. 

I  "  26  '•  "  ■•  kuliin. 

I  "  31  "  '•  •■  Rdliiii. 

I  "  17  '•  '•  •'  koliiii. 

I  '  .'-•  '•  •'  ••  SiKiT  l)<.(i(ii. 

I  '•  24  "  '•  ••  Silvrr  hortoi. 

I  '•  23  ••  "  ••  Kobin. 

I  "  26  ••  ■•  ■•  Kohin. 

Total  wcij,'hl  lor  liotli  ilays.  326  iioimds.  I'liiirsd.iy's  .ivcram',  22  34  |ioiiiiils. 
Friday's  avcra^'c,  id  19  pounds  uadi,  ami  (;ross  woight  2},^  pounds.  Whole  aMranc, 
25  1-13  pounds. 

Sunday  is  the  only  ilay  in  canip  when  all  arc  sure  to  Ik-  at  lionu- 
for  an  early  dinner  ami  in  condition  to  enjoy  and  appreciate  a  j,roo(l 
one.  On  \v(;ek-days,  the  cook,  who  never  leaves  camp,  doe-s  not  serve 
dinner  until  halt-past  seven  i'.  \i.,  so  as  to  jj[ive  all  time  to  return 
from  the  pools,  which  are  often  a  few  miles  distant.  Ifonei^etsa 
sulkini;  fish  late  in  the  afternoon,  he  may  be  detained  until  lonj;- 
after  the  ilinner-hoiir,  and  it  is  hy  no  means  a  very  rare  (occurrence 
to  have  a  fish  jraffed  by  the  liiiht  of  a  birch-bark  torch. 

Canada    fishinir-laws    forbid    throwintr  a  tl\- 
Saturday  eveninj.^  after  six  o'clock,  but  of  course 
must  allow  killing;  ;i  fish  previousl)-  hooki'd.    On     '- 
Sunday,  all  are  somewhat  rested,  and  appetites 
are  always  keener  after  the  day's  rest  which  fol-     WW**m.  •>*'i 
lows  excessivelv  hard  work  out-of-doors.  ...... 

On  Sunday,  July  4th,  1875,  Mr.  Reynolds, 
sent  word  that  with  three;  friends  he  would  come 
over  and  take  dinner  with  us  on  our  sr]orious 
Fourth.  As  his  name  is  a  synonym  for  hos- 
pitality, we  were  quite  an.vious  to  show  no  short- 
cominji^s  ourselves  in  that  direction.  Our  six 
men  and  the  cook  were  assisted  by  Curtis  him- 
self who  undertook  the  unheard-of  thino-  of 
makintj  a  loaf  of  cake  on  a  salmon-stream.  How 
he  succeeded  is  best  told  by  his  own  letter  to 
his  sister,  who  had  o-iven  him  the  cake  recipe ; 

"I    used    every    available    dish    in    camp —     . 
spilled    the   flour  all  over   my   clothes   and   the  ,  „,    ro  dinm  u. 


nff  I 


■i 


fbl  iT  tl 


ill. 

i 


%'. 


■■^A 


Mi 


\  f 


V: 


i;  if  ;! 


in 


f 


AAA 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


floor,  and  then  rubbed  it  well  in  with  butter,  of  which  latter  I  melted 
one  mess  too  much  and  the  other  too  little.  Took  a  vote,  and  found 
a  majority  of  one  for  stirring  it  with  the  sun.  Think,  after  all,  I  stirred 
it  the  wrong  way ;  and  certainly  put  in  too  much  egg-shell  to  make  it 
settle  well,  for  all  the  plums,  currants,  citron,  etc.,  nearly  settled 
through  the  bottom  of  the  small  wash-bowl  in  which  I  baked  it. 
while  some  large  lumps  of  sugar  failed  to  get  crushed  at  all.  The 
cake  was,  however,  quite  pn:.sable.  To  be  sure,  1  forgot  to  butter 
the  dish,  and  had  to  dig  the  cake  out  in  small  pieces  and  glue  them 
together ;  but  that  was  a  mere  trifle,  and  my  success  was  greater  than 
could  be  reasonably  expected  from  so  doughty  a  matter.  The  cow 
which  1  had  driven  up  from  the  settlement  and  put  in  our  old  and 
now  unused  snow-house,  so  as  to  keep  her,  came  to  grief  by  breaking 
her  leg  on  her  way  down  the  steep  rocky  river-bank  to  get  water." 

Our  admirable  courier  came  up  from  the  Basin  early  in  the  morn- 
ing with  a  clean  pocket-handkerchief  full  of  lettuce  leave.s,  the  size  of  a 
silver  dollar,  which  he  had  procured  from  the  minister's  wife,  who  had 
raised  under  a  cold  frame  the  only  lettuce  in  the  settlement.  Coffin 
com[)lained  bitterly  of  the  imposition  of  the  lobster-dealer,  who,  learn- 
ing that  his  purchase  was  for  "  States"  men.  charged  him  ten  cents  each 
for  lobsters  of  about  five  pounds  weight,  while  he  sold  them  commonly 
to  the  packer  opposite  (jaspe  for  fifty  cents  a  hundred,  large  and 
small  as  they  run.  So  plentiful  are  lobsters  around  Gaspc  Basin  that 
a  few  moments  suffice  to  get  a  basketful  liooked  up  with  a  peculiar 
sort  of  gaff  raade  expressly  for  the  purpose. 

A  heavy  shower  overtook  our  friends  between  the  two  rivers. 
They  had,  in  honor  of  the  special  occasion  of  a  Fourth  of  July  dinner 
with  their  American  friends,  dressed  them.selves  in  gorgeous  apparc  1 
of  white  flannel.  What  with  the  rain  which  had  soaked  them  an  1 
beautifully  distributed  the  usual  face  dressing  of  tar  and  sweet  oil 
over  large  geographical  surfaces,  the  stains  of  tree-drippings  and  th(; 
wadings  through  the  marsh  at  the  end  of  the  lake,  they  presented  a 
sorry  appearance.  Nothing  could  induce  them  to  remain  and  dine 
in  such  plight,  and  so  after  a  little  rest  and  a  modest  lunch  of  crackers 
and  cheese,  they  left  us.  Our  bill  of  fare,  which  in  accordance  with 
camp  custom  we  had  written  on  bark,  was  (\\\\W.  elaborate. 

On  Thurstlay,  we  received  from  our  friend  Reynolds  a  kind 
invitation    to    occupy    the    York     River    for    a    week.       Curtis    and 


Salmon  -Jus /ling. 


445 


I  accepted.  Douglass  going  oft"  hy  steamer  to 
take  a  fortnight  upon  the  Matapediac.  We  packed 
higgage  in  long  rubber  army-bags,  and  slung  them 
across  the  back  of  an  apolog)-  for  a  horse  sent 
up  from  Gaspe,  and  went  directl)-  over  the  moim 
tains  to  House  No.  i,  where  we  found 
canoes  and  extra  men 
awaiting  us,  and  then 
pushed  directl)-  for  the  -v^^^ 
Narrows.  '- 


J!.?        I: 


w. 


'  IIITY    I  l-.NIS    A    HUNDKKi). 


'Ilfl 


i; ; 


W 


I      ii 


ii 


,li 


I  '1 


446 


Salmon  -Fishing. 


FALLS    AT    Till-;     NARROWS    OK    YORK    RIVER. 


In  lifting  one  of  our  canoes 
over  a  slij^ht  fall,  we  swung  her 
around  and  half  filled  her  with 
water,  soaking  our  blankets, 
boxes  of  bread  and  crackers,  as 
well  as  sweetening  the  men's 
black  tea  with  lirown  sugar  en 
masse. 

Just  below  the  Narrows 
canoes  cannot  lie  used,  but  the 
fishing  must  be  done  while 
standing  and  wading  in  from 
one  to  two  and  a  half  feet  of 
water.  Rubber  wading-stock- 
ings  are  worn,  with  very  large  car.vas  shoes  over  them,  the  soles 
being  studded  with  soft  metal  nails  to  prevent  slipping  upon  the 
rocks.  In  a  moment  of  excitement,  while  following  a  fish,  one  fre- 
quently gets  in  over  the  tops  of  his  stockings,  and  the  subsequent 
carrying  of  a  few  gallons  of  water  in  these  for-the-time  rubber- 
bottles  is  neither  comfortable  nor  easy.  Curtis  improves  upon  the 
stockings  by  a  pair  of  boots  and  trowsers,  such  as  are  used  by  the 
Baptist  clerg)',  and  which  permit  wading  above  the  waist.  An- 
other of  his  improvements  is  a  vertically  adjustable  piano-stool 
arrangement  in  his   canoe,   which,    while  voyaging,   lets    one    down 

•  ••  ,       ,    ,.-•'  near    the    bottom 

to  keep  the  cen- 
ter of  gravity  low 
and  prevent  cap- 
sizing, and  which 
when  casting  can 
be  turned  up  for  a 
high  seat.  This, 
of  course,  is  only 
to  be  used  as  last 
indicated  when 
one  is  huiK;  or 
very  much  in- 
uNK  WAV  FISH  ARE  LOST.  cluied  to  laziness. 


"ifl*! 


Salmon  -Fis  fling. 


447 


At  the  pools,  some  distance  below  the  Narrows,  are  found  num- 
bers of  fallen  trees,  projecting  nearly  at  right  angles  to  the  low  river- 
banks.  These  trees  are  the  occasion,  to  nearlj-  all  anglers,  of  the 
loss  of  a  few  fish.  Poling  rapidly  under  them,  while  intent  upon  a 
running  fish,  they  find  their  elevated  rod  within  a  few  inches  of  the 
obstruction.  On  the  instant,  the  rod  is  thrown  forward,  and  this 
gives  slack  line  to  the  fish  and  enables  him  to  free  himself.  A  second 
and  too  late  thought  tells  him,  what  every  one  of  course  knows,  that 
a  line  from  a  given  point  before  him  on  the  watcT  to  the  top  of  his 
rod,  when  held  upright,  is  precisely  the  same  as  from  the  same  given 
point  to  the  top  of  his  rod  when  it  is  dropped  horizontally  in  the 
same  vertical  plane.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  an  inexperienced  angler 
forgets  this,  and  does  not  quickly  throw  his  rod  to  the  center  of  the 
river,  as  shown  in  the  sketch,  and  thus  preserve  his  rod  and  keep  a 
uniform  strain  upon  his  fish. 

The  old  log-house  at  the  Narrows  is  replete  with  pleasant  remin- 
iscences. On  the  pine  doors,  cupboards,  and  window-casings  are 
scores  and  sketches  illustrating  amusing  incidents  of  life  upon  a 
salmon-stream.  Sadly  we  note  the  names  of  one  or  two  who,  alas ! 
can  never  gladden  us  again  with  their  presence. 

Higgs's  well-known  copy  of  Bagster's  first  edition  of  "  Izaak 
Walton  "  is  bound  in  wood  from  the  door  of  Cotton's  fishing-house, 
"  hrkoi  off  by  Mr-  Higgs,  near  tlic  lock,  cohere  lie  was  sure  Old  Izaak 
must  have  touched  it."  Following  out  somewhat  this  conceit,  we 
made  our  sketches  and  notes  upon  the  soft  bark  of  some  of  the  old 
birches  that  overlooked  our  quarters. 


•i* 


=?sr^' 


TIM.     R!M',.      IHoM      lllr.     I'.MNTINi;     HY    WALIKK    \l.     llR\iKF,TI. 


m 


w 


i"i 


lli  ■     •    i 
Mil  1  r  i 

li'il 


,  i  i 


H  I 


'  i|. 


1 

i 

1           ' 

.1^ 

> 

■■  1 

K'^ 

448 


STRIPED   BASS. 


By    FRANCIS    ENDICOTT. 


TO  the  lover  of  rod  and  reel,  the  striped  bass,  or  rock-fish,  as  he 
is  called  south  of  Philadelphia,  is  the  most  important  of  all  our 
sea  fish.  His  habitat  is  so  extended  and  his  stay  with  us  so 
constant ;  he  is  so  eagerly  sought  for  by  anglers  of  all  classes 
and  conditions  of  life ;  he  affords  such  sport  in  the  various  stages  of 
his  growth,  from  the  puny  half-pounder  found  almost  everywhere  on 
our  Atlantic  coast,  to  the  enormous  "  green-head  "  who  makes  his 
home  in  the  break  of  the  surf;  he  brings  into  play  such  a  variety  of 
tackle,  from  the  pin-hook  of  the  urchin  fishing  from  the  city  docks,  to 
the  rods  and  reels  of  the  crack  bass-fisherman, — that  he  well  merits 
the  title  which  is  sometimes  bestowed  on  him  of  the  game  fish  par 
excellence  of  the  sea. 

A  bright  August  morning  found  the  writer,  in  company  with  a 
member  of  the  Cuttyhunk  Club,  steaming  down  the  bay  from  New 
Bedford,  bound  for  a  trip  to  the  Elizabeth  Islands  and  Martha's 
Vineyard,  and  for  a  bout  with  the  large  bass  which  frequent  the 
rocky  shores  of  those  favored  regions. 

Arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  as  our  little  craft  steams 
around  Clark's  Point  and  enters  Buzzard's  Bay,  the  whole  range  of 
the  Elizabeth  Islands  comes  into  full  view,  and  we  find  ourselves 
trying  to  repeat  the  old  verse  by  which  our  ancestors  remembered 
their  uncouth  Indian  names: 


"  Naushon,  Nonamesset. 
Uncatema  and  Wepcckct, 
Nashawena,  Pasciuinese, 
Cuttyhunk  and  Penikese." 


29 


449 


t 


i^ 


450 


Striped  Bass. 


m 


%\ 


There  is  a  mysterious  influence  at  work  in  these  regions  which 
seems  to  gather  the  sea-fogs  and  hold  them  suspended  around  the 
islands,  shutting  them  in  completely,  while  all  about,  the  atmosphere 
is  clear.  As  we  approach  the  land  we  observe  this  phenomenon,  and 
are  soon  lost  in  its  dense  vapors.  We  steam  along  slowly,  our  fog- 
whistle  shrieking  at  intervals,  and  every  eye  strained  forward  for 
rocks  or  vessels  which  may  be  in  the  way,  until  presently  we  hear  a 
distant  fog-horn  answering  us,  and  following  it  we  find  ourselves 
among  a  fleet  of  sword-fishermen  anchored  for  the  night  in  Cutty- 
hunk    Bay.     There    is   more    music   by  the   steam-whistle  with  an 


GOSNOLD'S    ISLAND,   CUTTYHUNK. 

answering  shout  from  the  shore,  and  in  a  few  moments  the  stroke  of 
oars  is  heard  upon  the  water.  A  skiff  gropes  its  way  toward  us 
through  the  fog,  we  gather  our  baggage  together,  and  are  landed  on 
the  shingly  beach,  where,  after  a  short  walk,  we  find  ourselves  safe 
under  the  comfortable  roof  of  the  club-house. 

As  the  tide  does  not  serve  until  late,  we  breakfast  at  the  usual 
hour,  and,  having  tested  our  line  and  seen  that  everything  is  in  order, 
with  a  good  supply  of  spare  hooks,  we  start  for  a  brisk  walk  over  the 
hills,  preceded  by  Perry,  our  "chummer,"  bearing  a  basket  full  of 
lobsters  and  menhaden  for  bait. 

Bleak  and  uninteresting  as  these  hills  appear  when  seen  from  the 
water,  every  now  and  then  we  come  unexpectedly  on  some  little  gem 
of  picturesque  beauty,  which  is  none  the  less  charming  from  the 
exceeding  plainness  of  its  setting.     We  hear,  too,  the  abrupt  notes 


VM    \ 


striped  Bass. 


451 


of  the  upland  plover,  wildest  of  all  game-birds,  as  he  rises  at  a  safe 
distance  and  speeds  his  flight  to  far-off  hills.  A  little  later  in  the 
season,  large  flocks  of  golden  plover  will  stop  on  -jt  ■ 

their  way  south  and  make  it  lively  for  the  grass-  ., 

hoppers,  which  now  rise  before  us  in 
clouds  at  every  step  and  scatter  away 
in  uncertain  flight  be- 
fore the  wind. 


Till:    CI.lB-llOL'SK    AND 
STANDS. 


Our  brisk  walk  soon  brings  us 
to  the  edge  of  a  little  fresh-water 
•  lake,  separated  from  the  sea  by  a 
narrow  shingle  beach,  where  we  take  a  skiff  and  row 
:;"*--'  o^'t^f  water  as  clear  as  cr)stal  itself  to  the  landing  at  the 
other  end.  The  bottom  of  this  lake  is  covered  with  a 
growth  of  aquatic  vegetation,  which  seems  as  though  it  might  harbor 
sufficient  insect  life  to  feed  millions  of  fish ;  while  in  the  shallows 
water-lilies  grow  in  profusion,  their  dark-green  leaves  crowding  each 
other  on  the  surface,  leaving  scant  room  for  the  snowy  petals  to  shoot 
up  and  unfold  themselves.  Some  years  ago,  the  club  placed  several 
thousand  young  trout  in  the  lake,  but  they  did  not  appear  to  thrive, 
or,  rather,  they  disappeared  mysteriously ;  whether  they  escaped 
through  some  under-ground  outlet  to  the  sea,  or  whether  they  fur- 
nished food  to  the  enormous  eels  which  inhabit  these  waters,  is  a 
question  difficult  of  solution.  The  lake  is  now  stocked  with  black 
bass,  and  the  experiment  bids  fair  to  succeed. 


1 


!•'}"'.■ 


•I 


452 


Striped  Bass. 


'i\   ;'   ! 


t  ! 


Arrived  at  our  destination, — a  large  granite  bowlder,  known  as 
Bass  Rock,  which  stands  out  some  distance  from  the  shore  and  is 
connected  with  it  by  a  narrow  planking  supported  on  iron  rods, — we 
occupy  the  seat  at  the  end  of  the  jetty  while  our  chummer,  standing 
behind  us,  baits  the  hook  with  a  lobster-tail,  and  we  cast  out  toward 
two  or  three  rocks  where  the  waters  are  swirling  with  the  incoming 
and  receding  waves. 

The  chummer  is  an  important  man  in  his  way.  He  is  generally 
a  native  of  the  island,  and  has  done  much  fishing  in  his  life-time  and 
seen  much  more.  His  office  is  no  sinecure  ;  besides  keeping  four  or 
five  baits  peeled  ready  for  use,  he  breaks  up  the  bodies  and  claws  of 
the  lobsters,  and  chops  the  head  and  shoulders  of  the  menhaden  into 
small  bits,  and  throws  them  out  upon  the  water  with  an  odd-looking 
wood-and-tin  ladle  called  a  "chum-spoon."  Without  the  chum  you 
might  catch  an  occasional  straggler,  Ijut  there  is  nothing  to  attract 
the  attention  of  the  fish,  and  it  is  only  by  accident,  as  it  were,  that 
they  happen  upon  the  solitary  bait  with  which  you  are  fishing. 

But  stop !  that  fellow  takes  hold  as  though  he  meant  it,  and  is 
laying  his  course  straight  for  Newport ;  we  must  try  and  stop  him 
short  of  that.  The  line  whizzes  out  from  the  reel,  and  our  thumb 
would  be  blistered  in  a  moment  were  it  not  for  the  double  worsted 
thumb-stall  which  protects  it.  Perry  says  he's  a  twenty-pounder,  at 
least,  and  he  feels  like  it,  for  the  rod  is  bent  to  the  curve  so  beautiful 
in  the  eyes  of  an  angler,  and  the  line  is  strained  to  the  utmost  ten- 
sion. There !  he  stops  and  breaks  on  the  surface.  How  broad  his 
tail  looks  as  he  lashes  the  water  in  impotent  wrath  !  The  worst  of 
his  run  is  over ;  reel  him  in  carefully,  keeping  the  killing  strain  on 
him  all  the  time.  He  will  make  two  or  three  more  short  dashes,  and 
then  you  may  lead  him  as  gentle  as  a  kitten  to  where  Perry  stands, 
with  his  gaff- hook,  ready  to  reach  down  and  take  him  in  out  of  the 
wet.  It  is  a  pity  to  strike  the  cruel  steel  into  his  silvery  sides,  but  it 
would  be  dangerous  to  attempt  to  land  him  among  the  rocks  in-shore. 

It  is  true  that  chumming  attracts  other  less  desirable  fish.  Your 
blue-fish  has  an  insatiable  appetite  and  a  keen  nose  for  a  free  lunch. 
We  say  this  ruefully,  as  we  reel  in  and  put  on  a  fresh  hook  to  replace 
the  one  just  carried  away.  Egad !  that  fellow  struck  like  a  forty- 
pound  bass,  and  cut  the  line  as  clean  as  though  he  had  carried  a  pair 
of  scissors !     What  a  game  fish  he  is!     He  fights  to  the 'ery  last, 


striped  Bass. 


453 


•ty- 
)air 
ast, 


and   only  comes   in  when   he   fears  that  the  struggle  is  becoming 
monotonous. 

What's  that — another  blue-fish  ?     No,  his  pull  is  too  steady  ;   it's 
a  bass,  surely  !    This  one  strikes  off  in  another  direction  ;  he  lays  his 

course  as  though  he  were  bound 
for  Pasque  Island.     There,   he 
has  taken  the  line  around  that 
rock  ;  better  to  give  him 
slack    and    risk    his 
unhooking     him- 
self   than    have 


the  line  frayed 

and     perhaps 

parted  against 

the      sharp 

granite    edges. 

Now     he's      off 

again;  handle  him 

tenderly :    there's  no 

knowing   what    damage 

that  rub  may  have  done 

to  the  slender  line — phew !  how  cold 

the  water  is !     That  wave    struck  flat 

against   the  rock   which  supports    the 

seat,  and  drenched  us. 

There  is  no  royal  road  to  this  heavy  surf-fishing ;  with  all  the 
appliances  for  comfort  which  experience  can  suggest,  there  is  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  hard  work  to  be  done  and  exposure  to  be  borne  as  a 
part  of  the  price  of  success.  Father  Neptune  is  no  respecter  of  per- 
sons, and  sjjatters  his  royal  favors  so  lavishly  and  so  impartially  on 
the  just  and  the  unjjist  that,  unless  you  are  a  believer  in  the  'hmg- 
shore  theory  that  "salt  water  never  hurts  nobody,"  and  can  take  a 
thorough  soaking  philosophically  and  as  a  matter  of  course,  you  had 
better  give  up  all  thought  of  being  a  ])ass-fisherman.  It  is  some- 
what trying  to  the  nerves  to  have  a  barrel  of  salt  water  dashed  unex- 
pectedly in  your  face,  sousing  you  in  an  instant  from  head  to  foot, 
and  at  times,  when  there  is  a  heavy  sea  running,  it  is  dangerous. 
29A 


454 


Striped  Bass. 


'    t!   l| 


%l 


i   ^ 


ill,'    ' 

i    '  • 

M 

H  ^ 

iV 

^Hy 

Cases  are  upon  record  where  anglers  have  been  washed  from  the 
rocks,  and  have  narrowly  escaped  with  their  lives.  Even  on  these 
stands  it  is  not  always  safe,  although  they  are  supposed  to  be  above 
high- water  mark.  Sometimes,  during  the  spring-tides,  when  the 
wind  has  lashed  the  sea  into  a  fury,  or  a  distant  storm  is  lending 
additional  force  to  the  breakers,  the  fisherman  will  sit  securely  on  his 


ON    TllF,    WAY    TO    THB    STANDS. 


perch  and  see  the  white  waters  breaking  angrily  among  the  rocks 
under  his  feet.  The  tide  rises  higher,  but  he  gives  little  heed  to  it, 
as  in  such  perturbed  waters  he  expects  to  meet  with  his  greatest  suc- 
cess,— perhaps  catch  the  fish  which  shall  make  him  "high-hook" 
for  the  year.  The  caps  of  the  higher  waves  sweep  over  the  sag  of 
the  narrow  plank  which  connects  him  with  the  shore,  while  the  crests 
of  one  or  two  bolder  than  the  rest  have  lapped  his  feet  with  their  ic)- 
tongues ;  still  he  continues  to  cast,  encouraged  by  the  taking  of  one 
or  two  fish,  or  by  the  strike  of  some  fish  of  unknown  size,  until 
he  is  wet  to  the  knees,  though  the  tide  cannot  be  more  than  three- 
quarters  high.  An  exclamation  from  his  chummer  causes  him  to 
look  up,  and  a  sight  meets  his  eye  which,  for  a  moment,  appalls  him 
— an  enormous,  unbroken  roller,  stretching  the  length  of  the  coast, 
and  coming  on  at  race-horse  speed,  followed  by  two  others  equally 


Styi/)i'(f  Bass. 


formitlable, — for  your  big  fellows  generally  travel  in  threes.  F.scape 
is  impossible,  and  his  only  recourse  is  to  hold  on  tight  and  take  his 
ducking  with  what  equanimity  he  can  command,  when,  if  he  be  sen- 
sible, he  will  watch  his  opportunity  and  make  for  the  shore,  a  wetter 
and  a  wiser  man.  Seth  Green  got  caught  in  this  way,  on  this  very 
rock  from  which  we  are  now  Hshing,  and  retired  dntnched  to  the 
skin,  but  only  for  a  time ;  the  bass  were  biting  freely,  and  the  "  great 
father  of  fishes,"  procuring  a  rope,  lashed  himself  to  the  seat,  and,  in 
spite  of  the  warnings  and  remonstrances  of  his  friends,  continued  his 
sport,  with  the  waves  occasionally  making  a  break  clear  over  his 
head.  Perry  tells  us  this  story  in  the  intervals  between  chopping 
and  chumming,  and  we  notice  that  the  pluck  of  the  old  man  elicits 
from  him  an  admiration  which  no  amount  of  piscicultural  skill  could 
have  commanded. 

Another  strike !  This  fellow  betrays  himself  at  the  very  start, 
for  we  see  the  cloven  hoof,  or  rather  the  forked  tail,  which  denotes 
that  pirate  of  the  deep,  blue  sea  —  the  bluefish,  and  we  bring  him  to 
gaff  as  soon  as  possible,  using  him  rather  roughly,  for  he  is  seldom 
alone,  and  his  companions  in  iniquity  are  apt  to  cut  him  Icose  by 
striking  at  any  bit  of  bait  that  may  have  run  up  on  the  line,  or  even 
at  the  line  itself  as  it  cuts  rapidly  through  the  water. 

Perry  opens  this  fish  and  brings  us  his  paunch  to  examine ;  in  it, 
besides  many  pieces  of  chum,  are  three  hooks — one  of  them,  with 


., 


i   •  K 


IT 


li: 


1 

i 

r 

1 

:, : 

i;^' 

SI 

l( 

M 


! '• ' 


456 


Striped  Bass, 


the  bait  still  on  and  a  hit  of  tlic  lin<!  attaciicci,  wc  identify  as  our 
property,  which  he  feloniously  purloined  and  converted  to  his  own 
use  this  morning ;  the  others,  of  strange  make  and  corroiied  by  the 
strong  gastric  juices,  art;  evidently  much  oliler  acciuisilions. 

Hut  the  bass  have  ceased  biting ;  our  stock  of  bait  is  reduced  to  a 
few  shreds  anil  patches,  and  the  inner  man  calls  loudly  for  nipairs,  so 
our  chummer  starts  on  ahead  with  th«;  heavy  load  of  fish,  while  we 
linger  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  light-house,  built  on  tin;  rising  ground 
between  the  lake  and  the  sea,  to  have  a  chat  with  the  ki;eper. 

Truly,  this  is  classic  ground.  Lying  almost  within  a  stone's- 
throw  of  us,  snugly  nestled  in  the  bosom  of  the  black-bass  ponil,  is 
the  little  island  called  after  Hartholomew  (losnold,  that  mighty  navi- 
gator whose  name  has  come  down  to  us  in  a  blaze  of  posthumous 
glory  as  the  discoverer  of  Cape  Cod. 

In  the  year  1602,  eighteen  years  before  the  founding  of  the 
Plymouth  colony,  Gosnold  built  a  store-house  and  began  a  fort  on 
this  islet  and  did  some  trading  with  the  Indians.  That  he  had  but 
litde  faith  in  their  friendliness  is  evidenced  by  his  building  his  strong- 
hold on  this  island  within  an  island,  and  in  fact  history  gives  the 
aboriginal  natives  of  Cuttyhunk  but  a  sorry  character  as  neighbors. 
Dr.  Belknap  visited  the  island  in  i  797,  and  discovered  what  he  sup- 
posed to  be  the  remains  of  the  cellar  of  Ciosnold's  store-house,  where- 
upon a  later  historian  breaks  forth  in  this  wise  :  "  It  is  a  vestige 
of  the  first  work  performed  by  Europeans  on  the  New  England 
shores.  Here  they  first  penetrated  the  earth ;  here  the  first  edifice 
was  erected.  Only  two  centuries  have  passed  away,  and  from  this 
humble  beginning  have  arisen  cities,  numerous,  large,  and  fair,  in 
which  are  enjoyed  all  the  refined  delights  of  civilization." 

The  first  duty  of  your  chummer,  on  returning  from  the  stand,  is 
to  see  that  the  bass  are  weighed  on  a  pair  of  scales  hanging  at  the 
corner  of  the  piazza.  This  is  done  in  the  presence  of  two  members 
of  the  club,  to  avoid — mistakes,  the  result  being  entered  on  a  blank 
slip,  which  is  retained  i.  itil  evening,  when  the  score  of  each  member 
for  the  whole  day  is  duly  entered  opposite  his  name  on  the  records. 
Our  score  for  the  morning's  work  shows  three  bass,  weighing 
eighteen  and  one-half,  sixteen  and  one-half,  and  nine  pounds. 
Glancing  over  the  leaves  of  the  record-book,  we  find  some  interest- 
ing items,  which  we  copy — premising  that  the  season  in  each  year 


striped  Hass. 


457 


Yenr. 

1876 
1877 
1878 
1879 
1880 
1881 
1882 


A    GOOD    CATCH. 

Weight  of 

bass  caught. 

.  .  5862  . 

•  •  33»i  ■ 
■  •  5444  • 
.  .  4841  . 

•  •  3619  • 
.     .      .784     . 

202(1 


lasts  hut  four  months,  extcncl- 
iiij,'  from  the  midclh;  of  Jum: 
to  thi'  midcllt!  of  Octohcr. 
The  honorary  title  of  "hij^jh- 
hook"  is  confcrreil  on  the 
meinher  takinj,'  the  larj^^est 
fish  of  th(.'  season. 

On  the  openinj;  day  of 
the  clul)  in  June  a  great  deal 
of  s[)ort  is  sometimes  occas- 
ioned by  the  anxiety  of  the 
members  to  wear  this  cov- 
eted honor;  and  as  the  mem- 
ber catching  the  first  fish, 
even  if  it  weigh  but  four  or 
five  pounds,  is  "high-hook" 
and  entitled  to  wear  the 
diamond-mounted  badge  in 
shape  of  a  bass  hook  which 
accompanies  the  title  until  a 
larger  fish  is  taken,  it  fre- 
quently hapj)ens  that  the  title 
and  badge  will  change  hands 
three  or  four  times  during 
tht!  day. 


Ili^li-lindU.  Larnesl  fish. 

\\.  R.  Ren  wick 51      lbs. 

\V.  McCirorty    .     .     .  .     .     .  51'j    '" 

T.  W,  Van  V.alkcnburgh     ...  51 

H.  IX  Polhemus 49 

.\ndrew  Dougherty    .  ...  50 '^    '• 

W.  McGrortv   .     ' 44        " 

W.  R.  Rcnwick 64 


On  the  following  morning  we  leave  our  hospitable  friends,  our  des- 
tination being  Gay  Head.  We  can  see  its  many-colored  cliffs  from 
the  club-house,  across  the  \'ineyard  Sound,  only  eight  miles  away ; 
but  the  wind  is  contrary  and  the  water  too  rough  for  the  small  boat 
at  our  disposal,  so  we  conclude  to  return  to  New  Bedford  by  the 
more  tranquil  waters  of  Buzzard's  Bay,  and  take  the  steamer  thence 


'■i  i.fi 


Iff 


\i  I 


458 


Striped  liass. 


to  jVlarllwi's  Vinfyard.  Wc  make  an  <:arly  start,  arxl,  as  the  wcatlvr 
is  fair,  ^'<i  a  j^ood  view  of  the  island  (jf  I'liiic,  Dr  Penikest;,  and  its 
v\i\r,\u\.  hiiildinj^s  (the  An(h;rson  Schorjl  of  Natural  History,  fonneily 
superintended  hy  Professor  A^ussiz),  which  the  fo}(  had  liidden  from 
si}(ht  when  we  arrived.     Skirting  alonj^   the;  coast  of  Nashawena, 


V    ! 


m'\^^. 


y.M  \.    I  H(.M    Mil.    i;i./\'  11. 


and  j^ivin;^  Ouick's  Hole  a  wide  herth  on  aeeoiml  ot  its  strong;  rnr 
rents,  we  (.ani'-  I(j  the  island  of  Pasf|ue,  or  I'esk,  as  the  natives  f  all 
it,  and,  roundinL;  its  easterly  prjint  into  l<o!)insc>n's  llol'-,  we  dr')|) 
anchor  in  front  of  tin:  l'asf|iie  Island  cluh  house.  Souk-  of  the  mem 
hers  of  this  cluh  are  old  friends,  and  we  avail  ourselves  of  ;i  lon^- 
slandin;^  invitation  to  drop  in  upon  them  ;ind  see  what  they  are 
doin;(  with  the  hass. 

l*as(|ue  Island  doirs  not  differ  in  i's  jfe-neral  features  tro;n  <  utly 
himk.  I  lere  th're  are  the  same  hleak  looking  hills,  han-  of  tn-'s,  with 
the  exception  of  a  littl<-  clum;'  ')f  locusts,  named,  aft'  r  the  ahorij,dnal 
owner  of  the  island,  "  Wamsutta's  (»rove."  I',;u'ly  atcoimts,  whic:h 
repr<:sent  these  islands  ;is  covereil  with  a  j^rowth  of  h»,-«:ch  and 
<edars,  would  he  incredihie,  in  view  of  their  present  cheerless  as[;e(  t, 
were  it  not  th.it  slumps  (;i  those,  trees  .ire  occasional])  un<arthed  at 
the  ji.'-esent  day.  liesides  th'-  <  lul»  houses,  ih're  is  hut  on'  huil'lin;^' 
<  II  the  islaii'l,  and  this  dates  so  far  hack  in  ih'-  dim  past  tli.il  the 
a(<:ounls  of  its  ori^dn  .in-  hut  h  L^endary.  We  should  like  to  pin  our 
faith  to  the  story  that  it  was  erected  hy  sonw  slra^^^der  from  ' /os 
nold'shmd,  whi' li  wml'l  make  it  the  old'st  huil'lin;^  in  New  I'ln;.^- 
laii'i  ;  out  we  l':ar  that  this  ( laim  r'-sts  f>n  the  s am'-  ;iiry  iiasis,  and 
must  I/':  jjlaced  in  the  sani'  category,  as  ih.it  which  carri's  the 
r>ld    mill    at    \''-wpor(    haf  k    t'l  the  tini'-  of   the  Xors'^in'M,       I  he  (.iuh 


■ii 


Styipvd  liass. 


459 


(jAfiis  flu;  who)'-  isl.'iDfi,  consisting,'  of  ai>oiil  one  tliousan'l  acrrts,  and 
has  in  its  possession  llic  orijMiial  fi'ied,  'laleH  K/^;,  Irom  lix-  Indian 
s;irh(;ni  'Isovvoarnin,  Ij'tl.cr  IstifAvn  as  W'ainsiiUi,  conveying;  I'as- 
cacliancst,  and  ar)otl)<:r  island  wliosc  name  is  ilje^dliie-  —  prohalily  a 
Hltle  one-  thrown  ini.o  the  har^^^ain  as  a  niake-weij^lit.  —  islanfis  vv<:n; 
cheap  in  t.hfjse  days — "to  I)anir;l  WilcfKiks,  of  th'-  town  of  I  )art- 
moiith,  in  tlie  jurisdiction  of  ,\ew  I'lymontli,"  for  tlic  sum  ol  t,welv<: 
|*oiinds. 

li'ior'-  hi<ldin;^'  our  friends  adieu  and  f:onlinuin;^'  our  jom-nry,  w<j 
;,'ath' r  tlie-  following  statistics  from  the  cluh  records: 

i^y*"' l'<-l<-r  l!.il<-(i* 50  U.S. 

I ''77 A.  I'.  Ili^'t;ii)s .  47  " 

I  ^'7^ (•    "•   llrrrinj; (my.  " 

'><7y ]    \).  Hireti tI  " 

1H80 W.  Oiiiiiiin^    .     ,     .     , )fi  " 

eS8f U.  II.  I'liilhi,-, 41 

l'<>''Z f '.   I',  r.-msilly t;)  " 

In  tiif  -arly  acfounts  f)i  the  s'ltl'incnt  of  ,\cvv  I'.n^huvl,  llx- 
stri|/'-d  Kass  is  fref|uently  nieiitiotii-d,  and  il  scfins  at  tini's  to  have 
forni'd  the  niait)  food  siipply  of  the  forelatiurs  ulun  other  sources 
had  faihd  th'-m.j 

"'Ihonias  Morton,  (jf  Clifford's  Inn,  j.fent.,"  jdves  a  ;,dowin}r 
description  of  th'ir  ahiindance  in  ".New  lui^lish  (  anaan,  or  New 
Canaan:  an  ahstrart  of  .New  I'ln^dand,  composed  in  ihrei-  ijookes. 
'I'll''  .Natural  Indowments  of  the  (  <.untri<-,  and  What  Staple  (  om^ 
mfidities  it  Yeildcti-.     i'rinU'd  hy  (  harles  (ir<'ii,   1O32."     lie  writes; 

"I  I...-  !irrv,c-  is  .-Id  CXI  •■ll'-tit  I'i.ii,  l.otii  frcsli  iV  „il(,  <,\\v.  Iniridrr.l  .  i-o!,  s;j|l.-(|  ,-it 
markrt,  h.ivc  yii-ldcd  fivi;  p.  They  an;  :so  lar;^'!:  t.h','  fif.-ul  of  f*iii'  w)i!  j;.  w  <^<,ui\  ciicr 
.1  'liniiir,  .UKJ  for  l.-iinlincss.'  of  diet  thc-y  exi  ell  ihi'  M.irvboiics  ol  i;<-i.'f(;.  'I  lien- jirc 
su<  h  rfiultitu'jis  ih.it  I  li-'ivc  sei.-nc  str)|)|)i/f|  into  tl).:  rivi-r  ( lose  icIjoiniriK  to  my  liowHc, 
with  ,i  s.ii.d  .It  .(DC  li(|r.  ,.,  m.rnv  .is  will  lo;i'l<'  .1  shi|-  of  oin'  hii/xleil  lotim  s." 

A  p--'  tiy  ^roorj  ir, li  Mory;  it  reads  like  th<'  pro  ,p<-(  tus  of  .i  l.md 
association — as  it  prohaldy  was.  Here  is  anotiier,  antedatin;^  it  hy 
two   v's'irs,  from  "  \cw  l',nt.dand's   Plantation  ;   or    .\  Short  anr|  '!  nie 

•  f llarum  ct  v(:tii.r;il)il'-  /lomin. 

<  In  "A  Key  into  tlit;  l„uiKiiaf;'-  o(  \\\\vm:\  ;  or.  .iti  Il'lp  to  tli.'  l..-ni(;ti:i;'i'  of  thrr 
Nativfs  in  thai  |),art.  of  AmcTir.i  (;ill>i|  Niw  Ktii^l.Tiiij  (.oiidon  :  l,y  po^cr  William.s, 
i''/43,"  tin:  IlKJiaii  ii.iiM'-  of  the  fjsl.  i,  i'lvii  tliir, :   "  Missiii  ki.-ki- " — lass. 


,    i  :? 


V]  !|'? 


,('F',aj.: 


460 


striped  Bass, 


Description  of  the  Commodities  and  [)is(:f)mmo(litics  of  that  Coim- 
tn;y.  Writtrn  hy  a  l<(;u(!r«;n(l  Divint;  (Mr.  I  li^rj^dnson),  now  then; 
resident.      London,  1630": 

"Of  tlii-si.'  fish  (tl)c  li.issc)  our  (islicrs  t.ikc  innny  liiituln.-ds  lof^clhiT,  whii  !i  I  li.ivc 
Hccm  lyiiif^  1)11  the  shore  lo  my  :i(liiiJr;ilioii ;  y(;i,  tlnir  iicis  oriliii.irily  l;ikc-  more  lli.iii 
tlicy  .irc  .ililr  lo  li.ilc  to  l;iii(|,  .■iinl  lor  w.iMl  of  lio.il',  .iiiil  lueii  llii\  .iri-  i  onslniiiicfl  lo 
let  A  m:iijy  j^oi:  .illcr  tlicy  liavu  l.ikeii  Ukmii,  .iimI  yd  soiiicliincs  llicy  till  Hvo  ho.ilus  ;il  ,i 
liiiu;  with  ihfiii." 

The  famous  Captain  Joim  Sniilli,  "sometime  (if)vernr)r  of  Virginia 
iS:  A(hniral  ol  i\<;\v  I'-n^dand,"  wrote  in  a  Mttle  hook  entitled  "/\dv(;rlise 
menls  for  the;  Inexperienced  Planters  of  New  l'JiL;land,  r)r  Any  where  ; 
or,  'jhe  Pathway  to  ICxperience  lo  lu-ect  a  I'lanlalion,    London,  1O31  :" 

"'I'hc  seven  .iiul  thirty  p.isseiiners,  iiiisc.irryiii;^  iwirc;  iipori  the  <  0,1st  of  I'wu^l.ind, 
( .line  so  ill  provided  lliey  only  lelyed  u|ion  the  poore-  (  onijiany  lh<:y  lr;iind,  lii.il  h;iil 
h\(,-d  two  ye.ires  hy  their  n.iked  indnslry  .mil  wh.il  llie  i  oinilry  h,iliir;illy  .diorded.  Il 
is  true,  .'it  first  there  h;itli  l)(.'eiie  l:ikeii  ;i  dioiis;in<l  ll.iyses  .il  :i  dr;iii;4ht,  .I'nl  nioic  thiin 
twelve  hof^sheails  of  llernnj^s  in  ;i  niKht." 


m  \ 


m 


i!|i 


Sturdy  John  Jtjsseiyn,  ;.(<'nt.,  who  never  hesitated  to  ns(;  a  word 
hecause  of  its  strenj^th,  write-s,  in  his  "  Accoinit  of 'Iwo  Voya;.M;s  to 
New  I'lnj^land  in  1O75"; 

"The  li.isse  is  a  s.ilt  w;itc:r  hsh,  loo,  hut  most  .•in  end  f  •iic  j  l.'iken  in  Kivers,  where 
tliev  s|);iwii;  llie-re  h.ith  been  ihree  ihous.ind  li.isse  taken  at  a  si;l.  (Jne  writes  that  ihe 
tat  in  tin;  i)(jne  ol  a  llass(;'s  heail  is  his  liraiiis,  wliif.h  is  a  lye." 

In  a  cnrioiis  |)oeti(al  des(:ri|)lion  ol  llie  colonx",  entitled  "  ( iood 
News  from  ,\evv  I'inuiand,  with  an  exact  relation  of  the  I'irst  I'laiit- 
ing  that  Conntrcty,"  printt^d  in  London,   1O4.S,  ihesr;  liixts  occur: 

".At  end  of  .Man!)   Iicf^iiis  llie  Spriii);  liy  Sol's  new  elivation, 
Ste.iliii)^  away  the    Ivirtli's  white  rohe'  dro|)|<iii(4  -.villi  swe.it's  vexati(jn, 
'I'lie   'fjdtish,    llolyliiil,  ,ind    IJ.isse  do   sport  llie   .iv<Ts  in, 
.\,nd   .\llwiles   Willi   llifir  <  rowdiii^^  slioles   in   every   i  reek   do  swim." 


Truly,   our  ancestors    uuist    have   had   j^lorioiis   opporliiiiitiis   for 
sporl,  ihouj^h    il    may   l)('  (onsidr^red   dciihllul    wh'llxr  those   st<rn 
visaL':ed   men,    whose    lealiires   had    orown    '^\-\\\\    in    facin'^   the   hard 
realities  ol    tlntir    pion'eer   lil<-,  —  sickn(!ss,    sl;trvati<in,    ar.^     an    ever 


Stfipcd  Hass 


461 


present  and   treacherous   f(;(:, — foiind  time   to  "  ^o   a-an;^linj^,"  ex- 
cept as  a  means  of  wardinj^'  off  famine  from  thi-ir  wives  and  little  ones. 
Then-  is  somelli  ni^  very  pathetic  in  thf-  accounts  «)f  th<:ir  fishinjj 


ll(ll'l.l)     llA,.    OH     !(':'  K     IIWl,       (l.ADKAX     MNI-.AI  I '  s, ) 

trips  as  f^iven  in  Bradford's  "  I  lislory  of  I'lymoutli  I'laiitalioii."    It  pre- 
sents liie  reverse  of  the  ro  .e colored  pictures  0}  Morton  and  I  lit^^inson: 


im 


"  I  licy  li.ivciii;^  Inil  uiic  Iid.iI  Icll,  .iinl  sin-  liol  wi'll  tilled,  llicy  wiTc  iliviilrcl  into 
scver.ill  sin.ill  coiiip.iiins,  si\  r  sirvcn  to  .1  ^;ui}^>;  or  coirip.iMy,  ;iii(l  so  weiili-  out  vvilli  ;i 
ncil  ihcy  li.iil  l)ou;.'lit  to  take;  bass  iV  sm  li  like  lisli,  hy  1  oiirsc,  iviTy  1  c)iii|).iny  kiiowiii^ 
their  liirrie.  No  sooner  w.is  yr  hoale  (lis<:liar)^e<l  of  what  she  liron^hl,  hnl  y(f  next 
(:oin]):niy  tooke  licr  and  wenu-  out  with  her.  Neither  did  ihey  relume  till  th<-y  had 
(  aiij^ht  somethinj^,  i1h)M(^1i  it  were  live  or  six  days  helore,  for  ihi-y  knew  IIk.ti;  was  iioth- 
iiif4  at  home,  and  to  i/oe  home  rm|il'e  wonhl  he  a  ^reat  (hsi  ouraj^emenle  lo  yi-  resl." 

At  New  Hedlord,  we  take  the  steaiiKtr  for  ( )ak  liluffs,  and  sail 
down  across  Htt//ard's  Hay  and  throujfh  the  narrow  strait  called 
Wood's  lloI<;,  whose  iiouhjcd  waters  hear  a  <.los<:  resemblance  to 
those  of  llell  (iati;.  K.ire  hass  fishing  there  must  Ke  in  these  cir- 
cling eddi(;s,  and  we  liaH  mature  a  plan  to  stoj)  on  the  way  home  and 
have  a  day  at  lliem  I'.mertrjuM  Irom  the  I  loh;  into  the  Vineyard 
Sound,  we  steam  away  lor  liie  headlands  of  Martha's  Vineyard,  visi- 
l)le  ill  ihc  distance,  atiij  in  due  timi-  liaiil  up  at  the  wharf  el  lliat 
marvelous  (  ily  ol  (  otla^n-s,  and  take  the  stai.;e  to  commence  a  tedious 


m  it 


vlW 


m 


m 


if  »■{;"'! 


[i  :.,  ; 


I'' 

wv 


•' 


m 


111- 


'1 

i 

''i 

/  ? 

hi 
111.  , 


1! 


462 


Stnprd  l^ass. 


journey  the  full  Icni^rth  of  tin- 
island,  sonic  t\v(nt)-t\vo  miles. 

As  the  sla^c;  route  does  not 
exlc-nd  heyond  Chilnuirk,  we 
an;  Iransfern^d  at  Tishury  10  a 
buir^ry,  with  a  bright  school-hoy 
of  some  thirteen  summers  as  a 
driver,  whom  we  ply  with  (|ues- 
tions  as  to  the;  names  of  local- 
ities we  pass  on  the  route. 

We  cross  some  nohh;  trout- 
streams  on  the  way  ;  on  one  of 
them  notices  are  posted  aj^ainst 
trespassers,  the  fishin,i;-  privilej,^: 
being  hired  by  two  or  three 
<r(;ntlemen  from  Boston.  Thc^se 
streams  look  iMiticing,  being  full 
of  dee|)  holes  overshadowed  by 


striped  Bass. 


463 


scrubby  aiders — lluj  lurkin<r-placc  of  many  a  larj^c  trout,  if 
we  may  believe  our  yoimj^  _i(ui(le.  'I"he  trout  should  be;  full  of 
game  and  fine-flavored  in  these  streams — pink-fleshed,  vij^'orous 
fellows,   such  as  we  find  in   the  tide- water  creeks    of   Lonj^    Island 


Till.    l.|l.ln■-llOII^>K    Al     (;\Y    lll-.AI), 


and  Cape  Cod,  who  take  the  ily  with  a  rush  tliat  sends  tiie  licart 
juMipin,L;  into  tiu;  throat. 

As  wt;  approach  Menemsha  l)i_i;lit,  liie  roads  ant  ticavy  with  r<!- 
cent  rains,  and  the  wheels  sink  (k.'cp  in  the;  sandy  soil.  .A  (|Lu;(r  liulc 
poppinjr  sound,  ap|)arently  coniinj.^  from  und(M'  the  waj^oi'.,  excitc.-s 
our  curiosity  ;  we  lean  ov(;r  to  ascertain  tJK;  cause,  and  find  the 
i^round  covered  with  myriads  of  small  loads,  any  one  of  whicli  could 
sit  comfortably  on  a  dime  with  room  to  spare.  .Some  of  these,  i^el- 
tinjr  cauirht  in  the  deep  rut  of  the  road,  struj^gle  feitbly  to  leap  over 
the  barrier,  and  failiuL;  in  the  attempt,  the  wheels  pass  over  them, 
(;ach  on(;  e.\|)lodinj^  under  the  weii^ht  with  a  faint  jxjp,  and  fial- 
teninir  out  into  a  _tfrotesf|ue  e.xatrj^cTation  of  iiis  former  s(;lt,  that 
reminds  us  of  one  of  the  pantomime  tricks  of  the  Ravel  family. 

It  is  dark  when  we  niach  (lay  Ilttad,  and  as  we  drive  up  to  tlKMJoor 
of  tile  ke(:p(M-'s  house,  which  adjoins  the  lit^ht  house;,  a  voice  from  some 
unknown  rei.rion  cheerily  invites  us  to  enter.  \V(-  look  around  for 
the  owner,  but  see;  no  one  to  whom  the  voice;  could  !)(;lon!L,^  Over- 
h(;ad,  l<jn^.  slanting-  l)ars  of  whiti;-and-r<;d  li.^lil  flash  throui^h  the; 
p()vv(;rfiil  l<"resn(;l  lenses  in  (;very  dir(;ction,  lookin}^'  liki'  bands  of 
brijrht  ribbon,  cut  bias  aj^ainst  die  darkness  of  the  skv  bexond,  while 


!    iS 


mv's 


i-  i 


:^'f 


i^l 


H  .   ■  > 


1^' 

Ml 


1,1.        ■  -'( 

-:  f  ''4. 


lit  j  I  > 


a.r 


m 


;  3  ii 


:  i-   1 


?     ' 


% 


|.^ 


111! 


464 


Striped  Bass. 


millions  of  insects  dance  in  the  broad  rays,  holdinjj;  hi^li  carnival  in 
the  almost  midday  jflare.  The  mysterious  voice  repeats  the  invita- 
tion, antl  without  more  ado  we  slather  our  bagj^agc  together  and 
enter  a  cozy  sitting-room,  where  we  proceed  to  make  ourselves  very 
much  at  home.  Mere  we  find  Mr.  Pease,  the  keeper  of  the  light, 
who  has  descended  from  his  lantern,  and  a  gentleman  from  New 
Bedford,  who  gives  but  poor  encouragement  in  regard  to  the  fishing. 
He  has  been  here  for  a  week  past,  and  has  not  caught  a  solitary  bass 
in  all  that  time;  but  he  tells  us  such  soul-stirring  yarns  offish  caught 
en  previous  visits,  and  all  told  with  a  modesty  which  attests  their 
truth,  th.it  our  spirits  are  restored  at  once. 

The  inhabitants  of  the  town  of  Gay  Head, 
with  the  exception  of  the  light-keeper's  famiU, 
are  of  somewliat  mixed  blood.  They  are  called 
Ciay  I  leail  Indians,  but  their  featurt;s  betoken  a 
lii)eral  intercourse  with  a  darker  complexioncd 
race ;  th(;re  is  a  flatness  of  the  nose  and  an 
inclination  to  curliness  in  the  hair  which  denote; 
an)thing  but  an  uninterrupted  descent  from  the 
warlike  tribe  that  Bartholomew  Gosnold  found  in 
''  possession  of  these  islands.  The  last  one  among 
them  who  could  build  a  wigwam  died  some  years  ago,  and  with  him 
died  this  invaluable  secret. 

I  lere  there  is  room  for  the  moralist  to  make  some  wise  reflections 
on  the  vanity  and  evanescence  of  all  human  greatness,  and  to  draw 
the  parallel  between  this  ))eo])le's  present  peaceful  occupations  of 
farming  and  berry-picking  (we  even  saw  a  young  scpiaw  who  was 
engaged  in  a  family  as  seamstress),  and  the  Puritan-roasting,  scalp- 
raising,  and  other  cheerful  and  innocent  diversions  which  obtained 
among  their  ancestors.  But  we  confess  we  would  rather  go  fishing 
than  point  morals,  any  day,  and  cnir  acquaintance  with  this  people  is 
confined  to  the  young  brave  of  some  twelve  summers  whom  we  en- 
gaged in  the  morning  as  our  henchman,  to  procure;  and  cut  up  bait. 

The  cliffs  at  (iay  Head  are  interesting  alike  to  the  artist  and  the 
geologist,  and  possess  still  another  interest  for  the  angl(;r,  who  has 
to  carry  fifty  pounds  of  striped  bass  up  their  steep  and  slijipery  in- 
cline. They  are  of  clay  formation,  broken  and  striated  by  the  wash- 
ings of  centuries,  and  wli(;n  lighted  up  li\  the  sun  present  ;\  brilliantly 


&■> 


iJ 


Stnpcd  Bass. 


465 


mh  ^ 


wm. 


varu,'jfatt.Hl  apijcaranct;,  which 
undouhlcdly  j^ave  the  promon- 
tory its  iKiiiu;.  Black,  red,  yel- 
low, blue,  and  white  are  the 
colors  represented,  all  stronj^ly 
defined,  and  on  a  clear  day,  dis- 
cernible at  a  j^'reat  distance. 
Down  their  steep  sides,  our  fbet     L  _..  MJVW'^p^^        ^XVJ 

slickinsj'  and  slidintr  in  the  clay,  moist  with     ;r'-v.''"x'ivili\\o  ■! 

.        •  -  '  V     flip  ^  i'!\v  w 

the  tricklings  of   hidden  sprin^Ljs,    we    pick  "      "'"fl;!'* 

our  way  slowl\-,  bearing"  our  rod  and  s^aff-hook  ;  while       H«    \ 
our   lillle    Indian    staL,roe|-s    luide-r   a    bask(;t    load    of 
chicken-lobsters,  purchased  of  the  neiirhborinn'  fisher- 
men at  tin;  (j.xtravaLfant   rale  of  one  dollar  and    fifl)- 
cents  per  hundred. 

At    the    bottom    of   the    cliffs   we  skirt  aloi\L;'  the 
b(.'ach,  stopping;   now  and  tlu;n  to  |)ick  up  bunches  of 
Irish  moss,  with   which  the  shore  is  plentifully  lined, 
until  we  come  to  three  or  four  lari^M:  granite  bowlders  lyinj,;-  at  the 
ed_L;e  of  the  water,  and   offerinjj^  such  attractions  as  a  resting-place 
that  we  stop  and  survey  the  field  to  select  our  fishin_s4-jrrounil. 


^1! 


IN     IllK     MI.Arll, 


Across  the;  Vineyard  Sound,  about  eitrht  miles  away,  and  stretch- 
in^'  out  far  to  the;  eastward,  are  Cutlyhunk,  \ashaw(Mia,  and  l'as(|ue 
Islaiuls:  anil  about  the  same  distance  to  the  south-westward,  the  little 
island  of  No  Man's  Land  is  plainly  visible  in  the  clcu"  atmosphere 
— even  to  the  fislutrnuMi's  huts  with  which  it  is  studded.  It  is  a 
30 


H 


wm 


w 

m  ■: 

<•  : 

!'  ■ 

ii   . 

466 


SlnpCii  Hnss. 


notahlc  place  for  larir<'  l»ass,  and  \vi>iiilcrfiil  stories  are  told  of  llu; 
catches  made  there  —  how,  011  one  o<(  asion,  when  the  lish  m  re  in  a 
|)arti(  iilarly  ^ood  humor,  three  rods  (.mj^ht  twelve  hmuln  d  and 
seveiit)-rivi'  pounds  of  stripid  hass  in  a  (la\'  and  a  h.iil. 

I.ookintf  out  seaward  some  tliirty  or  forty  yards,  we  see  three 
rocks  heavily  irin,L;(d  with  sea-wi'cd,  which  rises  and  spreads  out  like 
tentacles  with  the  swell  of  the  inconunL;'  tide,  and  clin^<  to  the  parent 
rocks  like  a  wet  hathiui^  dn^ss  as  the  water  recedes  and  h  ;i\<:s  them 
hare.  We  like  th(!  appearance'  of  this  spot — it  looks  as  thoui^h  it 
mii^ht  l)c  the  prowlin;^  around  of  larj;<j  fish;  and  we  adjust  our  tackle 
rapidi)'  and  (omuii'nce  die  assault. 

Into  the  iriant^li'  formed  l)\  diese  rocks  we  cast  our  bait  a^ain 
and  aj^^ain,  while  our  attendant  crushes  the  bodies  and  claws  of  the 
lobsters  into  a  pulp  beneath  his  he<-l,  an<l  throws  haiidfuls  of  the  miss 
out  as  far  as  his  stren!.(th  will  allow,  lie  appears  to  have  iiihiTil(,-(l 
some  of  the  la(  ilurnitv  of  his  vriX  ancestors,  for  not  ;i  su|)erl1uous 
word  do  w(;  ^<:t  out  of  him  .ill  day  Ioiil;  ;  all  ellorts  to  lead  him  into 
conversation  are  met  by  monosyllabic  answers,  so  that,  after  many 
(liscouraLjin^f  alt(Mn|)ts,  we  imitate  his  reticence;  ami  are  surprised  to 
find  with  how  few  woi'ds  we  can  t(et  alonj.,'.  .\  nod  of  the  head 
toward  the  sea  brings  him  into 
immediate  action,  and  he  com- 
mences to  throw  out  chum  vitr- 
orously,  like  a  skilllullv  made 
automaton  ;  a  nod  of  another  sig- 
nificance, and  he  brings  three  or 
four  Iresh  baits  and  de|)osits  them 
siicnll)-  on  the  njck  at  our  feet. 

'lluis  we  fish  faithfully  all  tlu;  morninj^,  buo)eil  up  by  the  hope 
which  "  sprint;  s  eternal"  in  tlu;  br(;ast  of  the  an,nU;r,  but  without 
other  encouratr(;ni(;nt  of  any  kind.  Many  nibblers  visit  our  bait  and 
pick  it  into  shr(;ds,  re(|uirin^  constant  attention  to  keej)  the  hook 
cov(;red,  \vh"'(-'  rock-crabs  clin.<(  to  it  viciously  as  we  reel  in,  and  drop 
off  just  as  we   in;  about  to  lay  violent  hands  on  them. 

The;  llood-tich;,  which  had  coinmenci;d  to  mak(;  wh(;n  we  arrived, 
is  now  runnini^;  fast,  and  has  risen  so  as  to  cover  the  rocks  on  our 
fishin^r  jrrouiid,  leaving;  visibh;  the;  dark  masses  of  sea-weed  which 
float  to   the    surlacc;   by  its   air-cells,   and    wave  mysteriously   to  and 


,'...Ai      -w 


4} 


J5f*^ 


t-^:^ml. 


V 
'A 


i  ! 


Striped  Rass. 


467 


I  HUM      Mil,     hl.l-lll-,     (IIASKII      I  IMI        AS  I  |!.,|Mn   I  oN). 

fro.  'I'Ik;  surf  li.is  risen  uilli  llu:  tide,  llu:  water  is  someuliai  liirliid 
and  Idled  with  small  floating'  particles  of  kelp  or  sea  salad,  whi(  li 
attach  themsiK'cs  to  the  line  and  (■aii^<-  it  lo  look,  when  slraimhlened 
out,  like  a  miniature  clothes  line.  (  )ccasionaIl\ ,  a  wave  will  dash  up 
aj^ainst  the  shelving  rock  on  whic  h  we  stand,  and,  ImakiniL^  into  line 
spray,  s|jrinkle  us  liher.illy,  and  as  salt  water  dries  hut  slowly,  we  an; 
graduall)'.  hut  none  the  less  surety,  drenched  lo  the  skin. 

Suddenly,  without  the  slii^dit<st  indication  of  the  presence  of 
ganKJ-fish,  our  line  str,ii;.diteir.  out,  we  strike  (|ui(k  and  hard  to 
fi.x  the  hook  well  in,  the  xnX  i-<\(>lves  with  fearful  rapidit\-  and  the 
taut  line  cuts  through  the  w.ucs  like  ,1  knile,  as  a  lari^c  hass  dashes 
away  in  his  tirst  m,id  run,  le.ir  and  r,iL;e  lendini^  him  a  stren^rth 
apparently  much  l)e)'ond  his  weight.  (  )f  course,  under  the  cin  um 
stances,  the  strain  on  the  fish  is  ^radii,ited,  hut  the  weight  ol  line 
alone  which  he;  has  to  dr.iw  through  llu  water  would  he  enoui^h  to 
exhaust  even  a  fiflx  pounder,  ;md  he  soon  tires  sulficieniU  to  <'nal)le 
us   to   turn   his   heail   toward   land.      .\s   we   jiilot   him    nearer   to   the 


ilij 


lJi:i 


m 


m 


n\ 


l.i'rlliiJ 


i|| 


m 

iili:,!]: 


1 

•     ^•.  ,1.' 
.     '     1 

1 

tdm  i  I : 


i-  • 


« ■ 


i^ 

i 

i'  '  ' ' 

',;'■-■  J;. 

f ;,; 

i  • 

I^H^^lllJ 

W  kmU 

i" 

m 

468 


striped  Hass. 


shore,  lu:  acts  like:  a  waywartl  chiUl,  making  for  every  rock  wliicU 
hapiteiis  in  the  way,  anil  as  there  are  many  of  them,  il  reijiiires  no 
little  care  to  guide  him  past  the  danger.  I'resently.  however,  the 
stcN'uly  strain  t(;lls  on  him.  his  struggles  grow  weaker,  his  efforts  to 
escape  become  convulsive  and  aimless,  and  we  lead  him  into  the 
undertow,  where  he  rests  for  a  moment  until  a  wave  catches  him  and 
rolls  him  up.  apparently  dead,  on  the  sh(.'lving  sand.  As  lu'  lies 
stranded  hy  the  receding  water,  the  hook,  which  has  worked  loose  in 
his  lip,  springs  l)ack  to  our  feet.  Our  little  Indian  sees  the  danger 
and  rushes  forwartl  to  gaff  him.  with  a  whoop  suggestive  of  war-paint 
anil  feathers;  l)ut  we  push  him  aside  luirriedK — no  steel  shall  mar 
the  round  and  perfect  beauty  of  thi'  glittering  sides — and.  rushing 
down  upon  him,  regardless  of  the  wetting,  we  thrust  a  hand  into  the 
fish's  mouth  and  thus  bear  him  safel\-  from  the  returning  waves;  then 
we  sit  down  on  the  rock  for  a  minute,  breathless  with  the  exertion, 
our  prize  lying  gasping  at  our  feet,  our  nerves  still  cjuivering  with 
excitement,  but  filled  with  such  a  glow  of  exulting  pride  as  we  verily 
believe  no  one  hut  the  successful  angler  ever  experiences,  and  he 
only  in  the  first  tlush  of  his  hard-won  victory. 

Hut  there  is  no  time  to  gloat  over  our  prey — bass  must  be  taken 
while  they  are  in  the  humor,  and  our  chummer  is  .ilready  in  the  field, 
throwing  out  large  handfuls  of  the  uninviting-looking  mixture;  so 
we  adjust  a  fresh  bait  and  commence  casting  again,  as  though  noth- 
ing had  hap]x;ned  to  disturb  our  serenity,  only  once  in  awhile  allow- 
ing our  eyes  to  wander  to  the  litde  hillock  of  sea-weed  and  moss 
under  which  our  twenty-five  pound  beauty  lies  sheltered  from  the 
sun  and  wind. 

Another  strike,  another  game  struggle,  and  we  land  a  mere  min- 
now of  fifteen  pounds.  And  this  is  all  that  we  catch  ;  the  succeeding 
two  hours  fail  to  bring  us  any  encouragement,  so  we  reel  in,  and 
painfully  make  our  way  up  the  cliffs,  bearing  our  prizes  with  us. 

We  are  eager  for  another  day  at  the  bass,  but  a  difficulty  presents 
itself;  fish  are  perishable  in  warm  weather,  the  bass  in  a  less  degree 
than  many  others,  but  still  perishable,  and  we  have  no  ice.  nor  is  any 
to  be  purchased  nearer  than  Vineyard  Flaven  —  which  for  our  pur- 
pose might  as  well  be  in  the  Arctic  regions.  But  we  bethink  us  that 
we  have  friends  at  the  Squibnocket  Club,  some  five  or  six  miles  away, 
on  the  south-west  corner  of  the  island,  and  in  the  afternoon  we  per- 
suade Mr.  Pease  to  drive  us  over  there. 


\isM 


Sfn'Pi'ii  Bdss. 


469 


The  comfortable  little  club-house  is  built  facing  ami  adjacent  to 
the  water,  and  after  supper,  as  we  sit  chattinj^f  over  a  cigar  on  the 
piazza,  we  look  out  upon  the  wildest  water  we  have  as  yet  seen.  The 
shore  is  exposed  to  the  direct  action  of  the  ocean,  without  any  inter- 
veninjf  land  to  break  the  force  of  the  sea,  and  the  white  breakers  fol- 


AI.ONi;     SIIOKK. 


low  each  other  in  rapid  succession,  lashing  themselves  against  the 
rocks  into  a  foamy  suds,  which  looks  as  though  it  might  be  the 
chosen  home  of  large  bass — as,  indeed,  they  say  it  is. 

The  following  day  is  almost  a  repetition  of  the  first — a  long, 
profitless  morning  s[)ent  in  fruitless  casting,  a  sudden  strike  when  we 
least  e.\pect  it,  anil  then  the  catching  of  three  fish  within  an  hour  and 
a  half  This  capricious  habit  of  the  bass  is  very  striking  at  times. 
Sometimes,  day  after  day,  they  will  bite  at  a  certain  hour,  without 
reference  to  the  height  of  the  tide,  and  at  no  other  time.  Whether  it 
is  that  they  have  set  times  to  visit  different  localities,  and  only  arrive 
at  the  fishing-ground  at  the  appointed  hour,  or,  whether  they  are 
there  all  the  time  and  only  come  to  their  appetites  as  the  sun  indi- 
cates lunch-time,  we  cannot  say. 

Our  trip  is  over,  and  we  pack  our  things  to  return  home.  Stored 
in  a  box,  carefully  packed  with  broken  ice,  are  five  bass, — we  take 
no  account  of  two  blue-fish  of  eight  and  ten  pounds, — which  weigh 
respectively  twenty-five,  fifteen,  twenty-eight,  twenty-one,  ten  pounds. 

30A 


nii. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


/. 


^  .<% 


1.0 


I.I 


£  Hi.  11° 


III 


1.25  1  ,.4      ,.6 

.^ 6" 

► 

Hiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


m^ 


r\ 


:\ 


iV 


\ 


^ 


^ 


O^ 


^ 


'^^ 


);  P 


?' 


11 


470 


Striped  Bass. 


MciNTAUK     I.KIIIT. 


H  the  reader  should  wish  to  enjoy  this  noble  sport,  the  better  plan 
by  far  is  to  piirthase  a  share  in  one  of  the  j^reat  bassiii^  cliil)s.  as  at 
their  comfortable  (|uarters  you  can  always  be  certain  of  bait,  skillful 
chummers,  and  ice  to  preserve  the  tish  when  caught ;  and.  moreover, 
a  jfood  meal  and  a  comfortable  bed  after  a  hard 
day's  work,  or  plav.  as  you  ch«H)se  to  call  it.  an- 
desiderata  not  always  to  be  obtaintnl  at  the  coun- 
try tavern  where  your  lines  may  be  cast,  liut 
slioulil  the  intention  Ih'  to  tish  only  occasionally, 
thi'u  e(|ually  j,food  sport  may  be  had  in  the  summer 
and  early  autumn  months  at  Montauk  Point.  Point 
Judith,  Newport.  Cohassel  Narrows,  and  many  places  alonj;  shore. 

A  seventy-two-pounder,  cauj^ht  by  a  trentle- 
man  of  New  N'ork.  is  |)robably  the  h<;avii-st  bass 
that  has  yet  been  landed  with  rod  and  reel ;  and 
when  it  is  considered  that  the  line  used  would  not 
sustain  much  more  than  one-third  that  aniount  of 
ilead  weijrht.  ami  that  every  ounce  of  that  sev- 
enty-two pountls  was  "ti<^htinj,f  weij^ht,"  some  conception  may  be 
formed  of  the  skill  and  patience  re(|uired  in  its  capture. 

Verily  there  is  nothintf  new  under  the  sun.  As  1  pen  tlu-se  lines 
re^ardinjf  the  capture  of  lari^e  fish  with  li.ijht  tackU:.  the-re  comes  to 
mind  the  memory  <»f  a  screed  written  in  the  lonj^f,  lon^j  aj^o.  and  1  step 
to  the  book-shelf,  take  ilown   the  volume,  and    transcribe   for  your 


be 


striped  Bass. 


47' 


tlck'ctation,  ()  reader,  the  ((uaiiU 
advice  ^'iven  l)y  that  sainted 
patroness  of  the  anijle,  I  )ame 
Jiihana  Herners,  nearly  four 
hunilrttil  years  a^j^o.  There  is  a 
flavor  of  moltl  about  the  fine  old 
linj^lish.  but  it  contains  the  sum 
and  essence  of  all  scientific  ang- 
linji^.  Here  it  is,  crisp  and  fresh 
as  when  it  was  first  written, 
though  the  hanil  that  penned  it 
has  long  since  crunililed  into 
dust,  and  the  generation  for 
whost:  "dysporte"it  was  "em- 
pryntyd"  by  VV'ynkyn  de  VV'orde 
have  been  casting  their  flies 
from  the  further  bank  of  the 
Styx  this  many  a  long  year: 


piMiiNi:   A.   n.    1496. 
I'l.Kr  i; 


iN's    rnM- 


*'3nD  vf  it  fominr  vou  to  0m?t  a  gret  fiUfii  intt^  a  0inaU  liamarg,  tt^nrnr 
Vt  mu0t  IrDr  Ijpin  in  t^r  untrr  ano  labour  Ijrm  t^rrr  t^U  1^  br  brouni^D  ano 
obrrcomr ;  tbmnr  tabr  b^m  m  uirll  as  ^t  ran  or  ntaT>r,  ano  rurr  br  unar 
tbat  yt  bolDr  not  ourr  tbr  tftrrngtbr  of  ^ur  Vmu  anti  ^  morbr  M  yt  mav 
Irtr  brm  not  romr  out  of  vour  Imfn  mbr  0trr?gbtr  ftom  i?ou ;  but  brpr 
bvm  rurr  unorr  tbr  roDDr,  ano  rurrmorr  boibr  b?nt  ttrrfabtr,  00  tbat  four 
Ipr  ma?  br  tfuKtrvnr  ano  brrrr  ^i  lrp?0  ano  }^i  plungret  vurtb  tbr  bHpr  of 
^ur  aopp  anD  of  vour  bonor." 


Mi' 


!^ 


!ir 


li 


f.' 


a,       ■> 


PORPOISI'-SIIOOTIXC. 


Hv   CHAKLKS   c  .   UAkI). 


CANOK  ahoy-oy-oy!" 
"  Ahoy-oy-oy  !" 
"Where  are  you  l)ound  ?" 
"IntUaii  Beach,  Grand  Menan." 

"  You  can't  fetch  it,  in  this  wind  and  sea :  better  come  al)oaril  the 
schooner." 

The  hail  came  from  an  outward  bound  pilot-boat,  runninL,^  down 
the  May  of  Inmdy,  close-reefed,  in  a  stron^r  breeze,  and  was  addresscii 
to  the  writer  and  his  Indian  frieml  Sebatis.  who  were  crossinj^r  the  ba\ 
in  a  canoe  bound  to  Indian  Beach,  Grand  Menan,  on  a  porpoise- 
shooiinsr  expedition. 

"  .Sibatis,  the  men  in  the  schooner  want  to  take  us  aboard ;  they 
say  that  thtire  is  too  much  wind  and  sea  to  fetch  Indian  Beach  with 
the  canoe." 

"No  danger;  canoe  best;  we  fetch  "im  Indian  Beach  all  safe— 
s'pose  we  go  on  pilot- boat,  sartin  very  sea-sick." 

On  hearing  Sebatis's  remark,  a  hearty  laugh  and  a  ciieer  came 
from  the  crew  of  the  pilot-boat;  thanking  them  for  their  kind  inten- 
tions, we  bore  away  for  our  destination. 

To  one  unaccustomed  to  the  sea-worthy  (|ualities  of  a  birch  canoe 
properly  handled,  the  situation  would  have  seemed  a  perilous  one, 
for  the  sea  was  ruiming  high,  and  the  breeze  stiffening. 

"  Look  out,  .Sebatis  !"  I  exclaimed,  involuntarily,  as  I  was  drenched 
by  the  spray  from  a  sea  breaking  almost  aboard  of  us. 

"  All  right !  no  danger  'tall ;  only  little  wet. " 

"  I'm  afraid  we'll  be  swamped,  Sebatis." 


ill 


V:    J 


I     ', 


fl 


|:    :r' 


m 

I 


1   , 


u 


i 


<f  I 


i\ 


474 


/  \)r poise  -  S/ioofinf*: 


"  No  ch.mcc  swamp  'iin;  I  watch  caiun:  so  clusc.  y<»ii  st-f.  water 
can't  coiiu'  'ho.irtl   tall." 

1  iuj^fan  to  think  that  our  situation  very  much  ri-scml)litl  that  of 
th«'  old  Indian  who,  for  lack  ol  a  sail,  |)iit  up  a  hij,'  hush  in  thf  how  of 
his  canot; : — all  wtnl  w<'ll  with  him  until  tluj  wind  incnast-d  to  a  i^aU; 
and  hf  could  not  tfft  forward  to  re«-f  his  hush.  So  In;  sat  likr  a  slatut:, 
stutirinj^f  with  his  paddle,  and  rrpcatin.i;,  in  a  mournful  monoton*- : 

"Too  much  hush,  loo  much  hush,  lor  little  canoe." 

With  this  in  my  mind.  1  said  to  Sehatis : 


r.M'K  bi.omiddn,  bay  ok  funijy. 


•'  Don't  you  think  that  we  are  carryinj^  too  much  sail  ?  A  heavy 
s<|uall  miijht  upset  us." 

"  Well,  \()U  see."  he  replied,  "  no  chance  reef  'im  now,  wind  st» 
heavy  ;  hut  I  take  care,  }.jot  sheet  in  my  hand,  s'pose  s(|uall,  th(;n  I 
let  jj^o  pretty  (|uick." 

He  had  the  sheet  in  his  hand,  as  he  saiil,  and  was  steerini;^  with 
thi!  paddle  in  the  other,  whale-hoiit  fashion.  So  I  took  heart  of 
j^ract!  and  trouhled  myself  no  mor«;  ahout  the  matter. 

"  N'ou  hear  im  wolves?"  saiil  Sehatis,  pointinj^  to  a  l(»w-lyini,r 
j^roup  of  rock)  islands  that  have  crusheil  m;uiy  a  nohle  ship  with 
th«'ir  uj^dy  fanijs ;  "make  j^ood  il«-al  noise"  (alludini^  to  the  surf); 
"wind  shift  now  —  fair  all  wa\   Indian  Meach." 


',H 


II 


ith 

of 


til 

0: 


/  ^or/>otsc  -  Shooting. 


475 


lAI'K   M'l.lT.    II  W   nr   KINDV. 

Anil  away  we  l)()uiKk;il.  tlu-  canoe  ridinjj  the  waves  like  a  iluck, 
ami  so  buoyantly  that  at  times  six  feel  of  her  len.!:;th  wen;  out  of 
water. 

After  we  had  saileil  for  another  hour: 

"Only  a  little  ways  now."  saiil  Sehalis.  •just  'rounil  l)ii,'  head- 
land, then  no  wind,  only  sea  pretty  hea\  \ .' 

In  a  few  moments,  wv.  douhleil  the  headland  safely,  and  Sehatis, 
unsteppinj;  the  mast  and  stowini;  the  sail  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
resumed  his  patldle. 


'I 


r,'  5 


ill 


t    %s 

in 


I     I 


Hi 


■  '.  l^  ■  w 


.  ^. 


urn 


i-    I 


476 


Porpoise  'S/iootiiiff. 


i)i\  vicwinj^f  our  prospect  for  lantlin};,  I  must  conl'i'ss  to  more 
anxiety  than  I  lia»l  hitlu-rto  txpiriinctd.  Tnu-,  \sv  wire  out  of  the 
wind,  but  th*-  ni^ht  was  shutlinj,;  ilown  apacr,  anil  a  transient  ^leam 
from  the  storm-rent  clouils  liisclused  the  sea  rolling'  in  on  the  beach 
in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  our  lanilin}^',  in  the  treacherous  lij^'ht  of 
the  departing  day,  a  dangerous  one. 


SRHMIs    RKAI  mini:    IIIK   I  ANOK. 


"Now,  then."  exclainvd  Sehatis,  "s'pose  yon  jump  overboard, 
and  run  right  up  the  beach,  when  1  give  the  word.  I'll  beaih  th«' 
canoe  all  'lone  myself" 

lie  was  paddling  with  might  and  main,  and  wi-  were  successfully 
riding  the  waves  within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  beach. 

"  Now  then,  jump  quick,  and  run  !"  he  cried,  as  a  receding  wave 
left  us  in  a  swashing  undertow. 

I  was  overboard  in  an  instant,  and  struggled  out  of  the  reach  of 
the  sea.  .After  holding  the  canoe  steady  while  I  jumped,  Sebatis 
followed,  and,  partly  dragging  and  partly  carrying  the  canoe, 
beachi.'d  hi-r  high  and  dry. 

VV^e  were  now  on  Indian  Meach.  where  the  Indians  camp  for  the 
summer  and  autumn  porpoise-shooting.  The  beach  extends  for 
about  half  a  mile,  between  two  projecting  headlanils,  and  the  camps. 


hi 


a. 


Porpoise  -  Shooting. 


477 


rill-:   CAMI'   Al    INllIAS    IIKACII 


(onslnictctl  of  cirifl-wood,  art-  placed  just  above  liij^h-watcr  mark, 
and  undn-  \\\r.  shclirr  of  tlu"  ox  rrliaii.i,dn,<,f  cliff's. 

Drenched  with  salt  water,  and  as  huni^rj,  as  wolves,  we  unpacked 
the  cantu'  and  carried  nur  "  possibles  "  to  St-batis's  camp. 

Porpoise-shootinj.!  affonls  to  the  Indians  of  llu;  l*assama(|U(Hldy 
tribt'  their  principal  means  of  su|)port.  It  is  practicil  at  all  seasons 
of"  the  year,  but  the  f'lsh  killed  in  the  w  inter  are  the  fattest  and  j^Mve 
the  larv;est  (juantities  of  oil.  The  iarj^est-sizinl  porpoises  measure 
about  sevt-n  feet  in  lenj^th.  about  the  jj^irth  five  feet,  weij^h  three 
hundred  pounds  ami  upward,  and  yield  from  six  to  seven  j^allons  of 
oil.  Ihe  blubber  is  about  one  anil  one  half  inches  thick  in  simimer, 
anil  two  inches  thick  in  winter,  at  which  time  thi'  creature  is  in  its 
best  condition.  The  blubber  from  a  larj^e  porpoise  weij.jhs  about 
one  hundred  pounds.  The  Indians  try  out  the  oil  in  a  very  primitive 
manner,  and  with  rude  but  picturesipie  appliances.  Thi;  blubber 
is  stripped  ofif.  then  cut  into  small  pieces,  which  are  placeil  in  huj.je 
iron  pots  and  melted  over  a  fire.  .\11  alonij  the  beach  were  placed, 
at  intervals,  curious  structures,  consistinij  of  two  uprij^ht  pieces  of 
wooil  surmounted  by  a  cross-pii-ci',  from  which  the  pots  were  lumji,^ 
by  chains.  I'nderthis  cross-piece  larije  stones  were  piled  in  a  si-mi- 
circle.  inside  of  which  a  fire  was  made  that  was  allowed  to  burn 
fiercely  until  the  stones  were  at  a  white  heat.     The  fire  was  then 


iii 


1    ^  ■ 


:i 


111; 


i- ' 


478 


/  ^orpoisc  -  S/ioofhig. 


m'   I 


scatU'retl.  ami  tin-  |H)ts  containing  tin,'  I)IiiI)I)it  wtTt-  placed  over  the 
stones  anil  just  rnoiij,fh  fire  kept  under  them  to  insure  the  int:lting 
of  the  l)lul)l)er.  When  melted,  the  oil  was  skimmed  off  into  other 
receptacKs,  then  poureil  into  tin  cans  of  alxtut  five  ^MJlons  capacity, 
and  the  process  was  complete,  if  the  oil  is  pure,  it  readily  i)rinj,fs 
ninety  cents  per  y^allon,  hut  if  ailulterateil  with  seal,  or  any  other 
inferior  oil,  its  value  is  reduceil  to  sixty-five  c«-nls  pi-r  j^allon.  .\ 
very  superior  oil  is  ohtained  from  the  jaw  of  the  porpoise,      'i'lu-  jaws 

are  hiinj,'  up  in  the  sun.  and  the 
oil.  as  it  drips,  is  cauj^ht  in  cans 
placi'd  for  that  purpose.  The 
(juantity  of  oil  thus  procurfMl  is 
small,  heinv;  only  ahout  half  of  a 
pint  from  each  jaw.  hut  a  larj^^e 
price  is  paid  for  it  by  watch- 
makers anil  othi-rs  r('(|uiriiii;  a 
fine  lubricator.  The-  oil  from 
the  hluhher  jj^ives  a  very  (food 
lij^ht.  and  was  for  a  Vn\\f  time 
used  in  all  the  liyht-houses  on 
th(!  coast.  It  is  also  a  ca])ital 
oil  for  lul)ricatin<,r  machiner\,  as 
it  never  <^ets  sticky,  ami  is  un- 
affected hy  cold  weatluT.  When 
pun-,  it  has  no  offensivt-  smell, 
and  I  know  of  no  oil  etjual  to  it 
for  those  who  ixrv.  compelled  to 
use  their  eyes  at  nii^ht.  The  li.i^ht  is  very  soft.  and.  when  used 
in  a  German  student's  lamp,  one  can  work  by  it  almost  as  com- 
fortably as  by  dayli^dit. 

If  industrious,  and  favored  with  ordinary  success,  an  Imlian  can 
kill  from  one  hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hunilred  porpoises  in  a  year, 
and  each  porpoise  will  probably  avera<;e  three  j^allons  of  oil.  which 
is  always  in  ilemand.  Hut.  unfortunately,  the  poor  Indians  are  not 
industrious,  or  only  so  i)y  fits  and  starts,  or  as  necessity  compels 
them.  When  they  accumulate  fifteen  or  twenty  jrallons  t)f  oil,  they 
take  it  to  luistport,  Maine,  to  markil ;  anil  so,  much  time  is  lost  in 
loiterinj,^  about  the  towns,  and   in  ,i,H)in>;   to  and   returninj^  from  the 


^B.  lflEK.^^^^HI 

-■ 

^        J^BVs^^B^bI 

^ 

^^^^        V^HM^VS^HI^H 

1^1 

1^ 

gi 

^K^^^aM^KHfl 

\x  '• 

i        -      (     \ 

^^ ' 

•?»-.       '• ' 

¥^^ 

f  ■^f  %, 

«>-•--''  *  '■  - 

TRYiNii  oi  r  iii.i'nnrcK. 


m 


/  \)t'Pois( '  -  S/wofin}f. 


479 


M'l.AKISi;    A    I'IIKI'OInF.. 


can 
car, 
lich 
not 
Kris 
u-y 
in 
the 


luintint^-ijrounds.  Mori-oviT.  tlu-rc  arc  always  t\v(»  Indians  to  cadi 
lanoi',  ami  the  proceeds  of  the  hunt  have  to  he  di\  ided.  I  he  ihsh 
of  the  porpoise,  when  cooketl,  tastes  like  Irish  pork,  and  al  one  lime 
was  Muicii  iiseil.  ilu'  Indi  ins  still  eal  il,  and  it  is  also  in  nipiesi 
l)V  the  lishernicn  on  die  loasi,  who  readily  exchans^c  fresl^.  lish  lor 
"porims"  ini-al  with  the  Indians. 

Almost  unknown  to  the  outside  world,  here  is  .m  iinhisiry  lollowed 
!)y  these  jioor  Indians,  year  alter  \ear,  cailinL;  in  its  pmsuit  lor  more 
bravery,  skill,  ami  endurance  than  perhaps  an\  other  oiiu|ialion.  I 
coukl  not  help  Itelini^  a  melancholy  interest  in  tluin  and  their  pursuits 
as  I  sat  on  the  beach  at  sunrise,  walchin<4  them  embark  on  their 
perilous  work.  l'"or  these  poor  rrealures,  "  por|iusin"  possessed  an 
all-absorbinji;-  interest,  and  the  chances  ol"  success,  state  ol  weather, 
and  price  obtainabU?  lor  the  oil  were  malttrs  orevcry-d  iv  discussion. 

In  the  morning,  all  the  wom«n  and  chililren  turned  out  to  see  the 
canoes  jjo  off,  and  it  ilurint;  the  day  a  storm  came  up,  or  the  canoes 
were  unusually  lati'  in  rctiu-niny,  many  anxious  eyes  would  be  lurm-d 
seaward.  Thi')-  were  aKva)s  pleasant  ami  i^ooilna lured  with  one 
another,  and  s^cnerally  nrturned  from  the  hunt  al)oiil  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.      After  dinner,  one  would   have  thoui^dil   that,  lircd 


l» 


'  t 


ifiii 


y.  i 


li 


ijll 


480 


l^o^f>oisi' -Shooting. 


out  with  tlu'ir  extTtions,  tluy  woiiUI  havt-  souj^ht  repose  ;  hut  they 
did  not  seem  to  need  it,  and  the  rest  of  the  day  until  sumlown  would 
be  spent  in  friendly  j^ames  upon  tin;  heaih. 

To  make  a  successful  porpoise-hunter  recpiires  five  or  six  years 
of  constant  practice.  Hoys,  ten  or  twelve  years  of  a]L,'e,  are  taken 
out  in  the  canoes  by  the  men,  and  thus  early  trained  in  the  • 
pursuit  of  that  which  is  to  form  their  main  support  in  after  years. 
Porpoise-shooting  is  followed  at  all  seasons  anil  in  all  kimls  of 
weather — in  the  summer  sea,  in  the  boisterous  autumn  j^ales,  and 
in  the  dreailful  icy  seas  of  mitlwinter.  In  a  calm  sununcir  da\,  the 
porpoise  can  be  heard  blowing;  for  a  lonj^  tlistance.  The  Indians, 
jfuided  by  the  sound  lonj^  before  th<'y  can  sec  the  jfame,  paddle 
rapiilly  in  the  direction  from  which  the  sounil  comes,  anil  rare!)  fail 
to  secure  the  fish.  The)  use  loni^  smooth-bored  j^uns,  loaded  with 
a  handful  of  powder,  and  a  hea\  y  charvfe  of  double  H  shot.  As 
soon  as  the  porpoise  is  shot,  they  paddle  rapidly  up  l^  him  and  kill 
him  with  a  spear,  to  prevent  his  nopj)in}^  about,  and  upsetting  the 
canoe  after  they  have  taken  him  aboard.  The  manner  of  lakinj^ 
the  porpoise  aboard  is  to  insert  two  fmi^ers  of  the  rii^lu  hand  into 
the  blow-hole,  take  hold  of  the  |)ectoral  fni  with  the  left  hand,  and 
lift  the  fish  up  until  at  least  on  :-half  of  his  lenj^^th  is  above  the 
j^unwale  of  the  canoe,  and  then  draj.^  him  aboard. 

This  is  com|)aratively  ea.iy  to  accomplish  in  smooth  water,  but 
when  the  feat  is  performed  in  a  heavy  sea,  one  can  realize  the  skill 
and  darinij  required.  In  rou^h  weather,  with  a  hij^di  sea  runninjL,s 
the  Indian  is  compelled  to  stanil  up  in  his  canoe  when  hi-  fires, 
otherwise  he  could  not  see  his  t^ame.  In  such  work  as  this,  one 
would  suppose  that  upsets  would  be  unavoidable  ;  but,  stranj.je  to 
say,  they  seldom  happen, — and  only  undei-  circumstances  where 
the  Indian's  skill  or  foresi!.,dit  is  unavailini,'.  When  an  Indian 
stands  up  in  his  canoe,  in  rou^di  water,  he  suits  himself  to  every 
motion  of  his  frail  craft,  and  is  ever  ready  to  sway  his  body  and 
keep  her  on  an  even  keel.  In  this  he  is  ably  seconded  by  his  com- 
rade who  mana}.fes  the  paddle,  and  with  marvelous  dexterity  ur<jes  the 
canoe  forward,  checks  her,  backs  her,  whirls  her  completely  around, 
or  holds  her  steady  as  a  rock,  as  the  emerj^ency  may  require. 

Althou£,di  an  old  and  experienced  canoeist,  in  the  matter  of  shoot- 
inj^^  porpoises  from  a  canoe  in  a  heavy  sea,  and  takinjr  them  aboard, 


!!'  ,'  ^ 


".  ,1 


/  \irf>oisi '  -  S/toof/'itg. 


481 


•re 

lan 

'er\ 


tho 
md, 

lOt- 

ird, 


T\KI\<i   A    rOKI'iM-.!.    MIllAHD. 

I  often  feel  incliin-d  t«)  sicK-  with  mv  friciul  CoIoik.-I  W- 


who  onrt- 


;irraii«r('d  a  porpoisc-sliootini;  i-xju'dition  on  shans  with  an  Indian 
nanu'd  I'aiil.  It  was  the  Colonel's  first  and,  I  may  add,  last  cxixri 
eiicr  in  this  kind  of  shooiint^,  for  the  Indian,  havinj^  shot  a  ver\  larj^c 
porpoise,  paddled  rapidlx  ii|)  to  him,  sp<;ared  him,  and  was  in  the 
act  of  haulinsj^  him  ahoard,  when  the  C"olon»'l  recovered  his  power  of 
spiecli,  and  excitedly  exclaimed  : 

"  Hold  on,  I'aid  !  hold  on  I      I  low  much  is  that  porpoise  worth?" 

"  I  low  much  worth?      Ma\  he  five  dollars." 

"Well,  Paul,  I'll  pa\  y(ni  half  antl  we  wont  take  the  porpoise  in." 

"  \o,"  replieil  Paul,  "  I  pa\  voii  half:  sartin,  we  take  in  "im 
porpus." 

rile  Colonel's  appeal  was  of  no  avail,  as  they  were  surroundtid 
hy  other  canoes  similarly  occupied,  and  it  was  a  point  of  honor  with 
Paul  to  take  the  porpoise  ahoard.  otherwise  he  mioht  have  been 
suspected  of  cowardice. 

Not  unfre(|uently,  as  the  Indian  hastily  paiUlles  up  to  dispatch  a 
wounded  porpoise  with  his  spear,  he  sees  the  terrible  dorsal-tin  of  a 

3' 


III 


r    V. 


;  1     .■ 


i  il'' 


I  it 


482 


/  ^orpoisc  -Shooting. 


shark  appear,  as  tlur  inonsU'r,  altraclccl  l)y  tin-  scent  of  hlooil,  rushes 
to  dispute  possess!   n  ol  tlie  prey. 

AUIiouj^li  there  are  well-aulluMiticatecl  cases  ol  a  sliark's  liavini^ 
actually  cut  ihe  porpoise  in  two  just  as  tin;  Indian  was  hauliiij^  it 
aboard  of  his  canoe,  I  have  never  heard  of  any  harm  resulting;  lo 
iht;  Indians  from  attacks  of  this  nature;  nor  ilo  ihey  in  the  least  fear 
the  sharks,  hut,  on  the  contrary,  holdly  attack  and  drive  them  off  with 
llu'ir  Ioiiil;  spears. 

( )ne  iveninj^,  after  I  had  passed  several  days  on  the  Indian 
Meach,  skelchinj^  and  makinij  studies,  Sehalis  returned  from  visilini,'' 
one  of  tile  camps,  anil  saiil: 

"  S'pose  y*>ii  like  to  try  'im  porpusin'.  I  fuul  very  il^ooiI  haml  lJo 
with  us." 

"Who  is  he,  .S(;l)aiis.^" 

"  \'oii  luver  see  'ini  'tall ;   his  name's  l'i(;Itoma.  " 

"  When  do  we  start  .■*  " 

"  May  he  about  daylij^dit,  s'pose  no  foj^." 

Judjjjini;  by  my  experience  durinj^  the  few  days  that  I  had  been 
on  tin-  islaiul,  Sel)atis's  proviso  about  the;  foj^  seemed  likely  to  indefi- 
nitely postpone  our  expetlilion.  Whence  the  loo-  came,  or  whitluT 
it  went,  sei'inetl  oik-  of  those  thinj^s  that  no  person  could  fuul  out. 
.\t  times,  when  the  sun  was  sliinini;  brio;htly.  the  distant  cliffs  wouUl 
suildenly  become  ol)scured  as  if  a  vail  hail  bein  dropped  over  them, 
then  nearer  ol)jects  woulil  become  indistinct,  and  while  one  was 
wonderiui;  at  the  rapid  change,  everything  animate  and  inanimate; 
would  vanish  as  if  by  ma^ic.  bor  a  time,  silence  reioned  supreme, 
then  a  din  as  of  the  infernal  retjions  in'i^an.  I'irst,  a  bit;-  steam- 
whistle  on  the  land  half  a  mile  away  sent  out  its  milancholy  boo- 
00-00  in  warniii}^  lo  passinj^  mariners;  then  from  the  sea  came  tlu' 
answering  whistle  of  some  passing  steamer;  then  the  fishermen  at 
anchor  in  the  bay  blew  their  tin  fo^  horns  and  their  conch-shell  foi^- 
horns,  until  at  last  one  became  thoroughly  convinced  that  every 
conceivable  and  inconceivable  form  of  ".\merican  devil,"  as  the 
Hnnlish  term  our  steam-whistle,  was  faithfully  represented  in  the 
uproar.  Now  and  then,  durinjj;  an  interhule,  a  sound  that  mitiht 
have  bf'iMi  uttered  by  a  mountain  irnonie  echoed  throiii^li  the  void. 
This  was  the  ilismal  "koni;,  koni^"  of  the  raven,  seated  away  up  on 
some  projectinsj;  c^iK-      Here  the  raven  is  a  rej^al  bird  and  attains 


1 


A    IMlKI'lllSI.    KIVINi; 


lll<Al\N     MV     IIW.     IIIMdl,     AF    I  J    li     A    SM    Mil     \:\     ri|\KI.I.S    <.    W\H1>. 


i  -  *■ 


[IM;!!' 


i!  i  t 


.!  ( 


\i\ 


rof poise  -Shooting. 


485 


his  jrrcatcst  size  and  most  majestic  form.  The  transformation  came 
as(|uickly,  and  almost  in  a  twinklinj,'  the  vail  would  he  hfted  from  the 
hill,  and  the  sun  would  shine  out  a.^ain,  bright  anil  warm.  .Some 
of  the  efferts  of  li.i,du  and  shade  produced  l)y  these  sudden  transi- 
tions are  y:rand  beyond  all  power  of  tiescription. 

Just  ai)out  daylij,dit  next  morninjj^,  .Sebatis  arousitl  me.  There 
was  no  fog,  and  it  was  (|uite  calm  on  the  water,  and,  as  .Sebatis 
remarked : 

"A  vi-ry  good  day  for  porpusin'." 

Pieltoma,  a  fine-looking  young  Indian,  joined  us  at  breakfast, 
and,  that  over,  we  emi)arked  in  Sebatis's  canoe  and  ijaddleil  off  in 
quest  of  porpoises. 

"  Mow  far  out  are  you  going.  Sebatis  ?" 

"Can't  tell  yet;  you  see,  by-em-by,  may  be  we  hear  'ini  por- 
pusis  blowin'  somewheres." 

"1  hear  'im  |)orpus  blowin' just  now."  said  Pieltoma. 

".Sartin.  Pieltoma  got  prettv  good  ears;  I  don't  hear  'im  nothin' 
'tall." 

"  I  hear  'im.  sartin."  reiterated  Pieltoma. 

"Which  way  ?"  asked  Sebatis. 

".Away  up  on  rip.s.  this  side  VA  Hrook.  Hark!  you  hear  'im 
now  ?"  hi'  continued. 

"Sartin,"  said  Sebatis.      "We  go  now  pretty  quick." 

Simultaneously  their  paddles  struck  the  water,  and  away  wi-  went 
with  redoubled  speed.  I  was  listening  intently;  but.  so  far,  my  unedu- 
cated ears  failed  to  detect  the  sound. 

"There  goes  porpus ! "  said  .Sebatis,  dropping  his  paddle  and 
taking  up  his  gun. 

Just  then  a  deafening  roar  came  from  the  stern,  where  Pieltoma 
sat,  and  the  canoe  tilted  slightly  over. 

"  Py  tunders!"  cried  .Sebatis,  in  a  chiding  tone.  "  Vou  miss  'im 
porpus  sartin,  and  most  u|)S(t  canoe  beside  ;  some  time  you  bust  'im 
gun,  s'pose,  you  put  in  so  much  powder." 

1  his  custom  of  overloading  their  guns  frequentK'  results  in  serious 
accidents  to  the  Indians,  and  1  know  two  h.dians,  one  with  a  broken 
jaw  and  one  with  a  broken  shoulder,  the  result  of  this  habit.  In 
this,  however,  they  are  not  singular,  as  the  fishermen  of  Newfound- 
land,  who   use   old    muskets  for  duck  and   .seal   shooting,   overload 


!il 


, 


It 


f'l  >»l 


!  ,   ! 


486 


For  poise  -  Shooting. 


'■\\  \ 


I    ! 


SIIOirriN(;   A   I'OKI'i'l'-K. 


in  the  same  way.  and  broken  shoulders  and  broken  noses  are  saiil  to 
be  ([iiitc;  ioiumon  amonjr  them. 

Poor  I'ieltoma  seemed  c|uite  disconsolate  at  this  misadventure, 
and  without  remark  of  any  kind  resumed  his  paddle,  and  we  con- 
tinued on  our  way. 

"  What  do  the  porpoises  feetl  on,  .Sebatis  ?" 

'•  He  eat  'im  mackerel,  herrin's,  and  most  all  kinds  of  small  little 
fishes.  Iiy-em-t)y  we  come  on  ieedin'-_<frounds,  then  see  'im  more 
porpusis." 

"  1  hear  'im  porpus  again,"  remarket!  Pieltoma. 

Instantly,  Sebatis  was  on  his  feet,  i^un  in  hand,  and  I  just  cauj^ht 
a  glimpse  of  a  dark  Iwdy  rolling  over  in  the  water  some  fifty  yards 
awa)-.  when  Sebatis  fireil.  then  ilropped  his  gun,  and  picked  up  the 
long  spear  which  lay  ready  to  his  hand  in  the  bow  of  the  canoe. 

IMeltoma  paddled  (|uickl\-  uj)  to  the  porpoise;,  and  Sebatis  stabbed 
the  dying  fish  repeatedly,  and  then  dragged  him  aboanl  of  the 
canoe.  He  was  a  medium-sized  fish,  and  weighed  about  two  hun- 
dred pounds. 

"  Now.  then,  fill  my  pipe  first,  then  we  go  hunt  'im  somewhere 
else ;  may  be  find  'im  more  porpusis,"  said  Sebatis. 

•'  It  will  be  Pieltomas  turn  to  shoot  the  ne.xt  porpoise." 


f!.:  ■     I 


;{.''-.:. 


w 


Pay  poise  -Shooting. 


487 


"  No;    l*ieltoma  best  padclK.'  canoe.      I  shoot  'im  porpusis." 

It  afterward  transpired  that  Pieltoini  was  not  an  expirt  in  por- 
poise-shootinj^r.  I  had  thoiiyiu  that  all  Indians  were  good  porpoise- 
hunters ;  but  it  seems  that  tliere  are  several  grades  of  excellence,  and 
that  some  of  the  Indians  never  attain  the  recpiisite  skill.  Poor  I'iel- 
toma  was  one  of  the  latter  class,  and  in  future  wouUl  have  to  stick 
to  the  padiUe,  in  the  management  of  which  he  excelled. 

After  patldling  along  for  sonu;  time  in  silence,  he  said  : 

"Sebatis,  s'pose  we  try  'im  farther  out;  porpus  may  be  chase  'im 
mackerel  .somewheres.      I  .see  'im  plenty  gulls  outside." 

"  .Sartin,  that's  a  very  good  plan,"  replied  Sebatis.  "  We'll  go 
about  two  miles  out." 

"Storm  coming,  Sebatis;   wind  and  sea  both  rising." 

"  No,  not  any  storm  ;  only  little  breezy,  that's  all.  By-em-by  you 
see 'im  plenty  por|)usis.  .\lways  when  breez\,  then  porpusis  kind 
|)layin',  you  si;e — jump  'round  everywheres. ' 

"  I  )o  the  porpoises  go  in  large  schools  .^ " 

".\lways  good  many  together;  sometimes  1  see  'im  forty  or  fifty 
porpusis  all  jumpin'  'round  at  the  same  time." 

"There  goes  three  ])orpusis!"  said  I'ieltoma. 

"Which  way?"  asked  Sebatis. 

"There  they  are,  Sebatis,"  I  said,  as  several  black  objects  ap- 
peared, rolling  over  in  the  waves. 

"  I  see  'im  now.  'Most  too  far  off  shoot  'im.  Paddle  little  ways 
closer,  Pieltoma." 

Presently,  bang  goes  his  gun,  and  we  are  paddling  rapidly  up  to 
the  tish,  which  is  blowing  and  thrashing  the  water  into  foam. 

"  Pretty  big  porpus  ;  go  over  three  hundred,"  said  Sebatis,  as  he 
savagely  speared  the  porpoise. 

"'Most  too  big  take  'im  in,  .Sebatis,"  said  Pieltoma. 

"  No,  not  too  big  ;  s'pose  you  come  help  me  to  lift  'im  up." 

Pieltoma  came  forward,  and  I  passed  aft  and  took  the  paddle  to 
steady  the  canoe.  As  they  struggled  to  get  the  fish  aboard  over  the 
gunwale,  my  knees  began  to  shake — there  was  quite  a  swell  on,  and 
I  feared  that  we  might  go  over.  However,  they  got  it  safely  aboard 
at  last. 

"  Hy  tunders !  that's  pretty  good  luck,  gettin'  so  big  porpus ; 
about  six  gallons  oil,  sartin  !  "  exclaimed  Sebatis,  exultingly. 


m 


Vv. 


Ill 


i 


'11 


i! 


iPi!. 


m 


488 


/  W^o/'sc  -Shooting. 


"  Almost  upset  tin:  caiuu;  that  time.  Sehatis." 

"Oil,  no:  no  ilanj^cr  to  handle  a  porpus  when  two  men  in  the 
canoe.  S'pose  onl)  one  man,  then  pretty  risky.  About  a  year  ajfo 
I  j;ot  u|)set  myself,  takin'  in  a  big  porpus  all  'lone.  I'isherman  see 
me,  anil  send  small  boat  take  me  off,  and  tow  canoe  alongside 
schooner.  Not  so  bad,  you  see ;  save  porpus,  canoe,  paddle,  anil 
spear; — lose-  my  gun,  that's  all." 


>l  llMIs    ADKIIT. 


"  Vou  hail  a  very  narrow  escape  that  lime." 

"Well,  you  see.  almost  don'l  'scape  'lall,  wind  and  sea  so  heavy. 
\\\  Uindi  rs !  when  I  get  ashore,  and  lell  all  about  it.  good  many 
Ingins  come  and  listen." 

"  ("lo  on,  Sel)alis." 

"Well,  s'pose  I  got  to  tell  'im  an\how;  best  land  souuwluns, 
anil  put  im  out  porpuses.  and  get  dinner  first  :  then  I  tell  im  stor\ . 
—  too  lumgr\  now." 

After  dinner,  IMeltoma  washed  out  and  dried  the  canoe,  anil  once 
more  we  set  out  in  pursuit  of  the  porpoises. 

"When?  are  we  going  now,  .Sebalis?" 

"  (loin'  away  long  eddy,  off  northern  heail. ' 

"  Is  that  a  good  place  for  porjioises  ?" 

"  Sartin  :   always  on  rips  very  good  pl.ici'  ;   you  see,  plenty  mack- 


m^ 
»•-' 


/  \)r poise  -  Shooting. 


489 


ercls,  hcrrin's,  and   all   kinds   lislus  in   etldics  and   rips  ;   very   j,^M)d 
fccilin'-j^froiind  fur  porpusis,  you  sci;.  ' 

I'lu-  laddies,  or  rips,  ailiidrd  to  l)y  Scl)atis,  wort;  caused  l)y  llie 
ol)struction  offered  l)y  projectin>f  lieadlands  lo  the  ehb  anil  How  of 
the  tiile,  which  on  this  coast  ris(;s  some  forty  firl. 

"  IV(;tty  late  wiien  we  i,fel  hack,  s'pose  we  <;()  all  way  to  lonj^^ 
rips,"  saiil  I'iellonia. 

"Well,"  replied  Sehatis,  "  s'pose  dark,  then  wi'll  camp  somewhere 
all  niolu.  1  fetch 'im  provisions  and  cookinjL,^  tools  ;  sartin,  canoe- ami 
sail  make  very  j^ood  camji.  ' 

ralkin_u  tliil  not  interfere  with  their  paddling-,  and  we  wvw  '^^<\\v^ 
at  a  rai)id  rate  for  the  |)lace  when-  thc\-  ho|)cd  to  fnid  the  jiorpoises. 
I'resrntly  we  entereil  rouj^h  water,  with  much  such  :i  sea  as  is  caused 
i)y  wind  against  tide,  and  the  canoe  hci^an  to  jump  ahout  in  a  \(  r\ 
lively  manner. 

•■  There  i^-oes  porpus,  Sehalis,"  said  I'ielloma. 
••  i    see  'im,"  saiil    Si'halis,  stanthni;  up  in  the  canoe,  nun  in  hand. 
Just   then  we   not   into  some  \ery  rounh  water,  and  it  was  a  stnd\   to 
s(!e  tile  atlmirahle  ua\    in  which  Sehatis  poised  himself  for  a  shot. 

I'leltoma  was   holding  the  canoe  well    in    hand  when  (|uite  a  larn( 
wave    smashed    ovt'r    the    i)ow   i.^i    the   canoe,    and   some  water   came 
ahoard. 

■•  Uesl  sit   tlown,    Sehatis,    take    "im    paddle,    ma\   he    upset,"  said 
I'ieltcMiia. 

•Sehi'tis    turned   a    withering    fiance    upon   him,    and    then,    a-    we 
mounted  a  wa\e,  hred  at  some  ohject  that  I  did  not  see. 
"Was  that  a  porpoise,  .Sehatis?" 

"  .Sartin.      l''our,  live  por|)usis  all  rollin'  over  together." 
"  I  )id  you  kill  him  ?  " 

"\o;  miss  "im  clean;  all  ni)nedowii.  N'ou  see,  riejtoma  scared 
so  had  make  mv  miss  'im  porpus."  he  repHed,  ironicallv. 

Ketaininn  his  u!)rinhl  position  in  the  canoe,  he  reloaded  his  nun, 
and  stood  ready  for  .mother  shot. 

"<Hiick,  Sehatis!  \Cry  hi^  porpus  on  this  side  ciinoe,"  said 
Pit'Itoma,  whirlinn;  the  canoe  .irouml  so  as  to  afford  Sel.atis  a  chance 
for  a  shot.  The  next  moment  wc  wire  in  the  trough  of  the  sea,  and 
1  saw  a  flash  of  silver  on  an  a|)pi()achinn-  w.ive  ;  a  helch  of  fire  and  a 
roar  from   Sehatis's  u-mi   instantly  followed,  and  I'ieltoma  paddled  as 


;  I, 


\' 

1 

X^' 

! 

If. 

m>\ 

'  1 

.■, 

m. 

■ 

ifr 

^^R 

^ 

% 


490 


Porpoise  -  Shooting. 


frnm^j^wm 

^^k 

%  ■ 

<iN   TIIK    WAV  TO  Till-.    rimiKS. 


if  for  life,  whilt;  Schatis  droppt-d  his  yun  ami  piclvcci  up  iiis  long 
s|K;ar.  In  tlic  cxciUMiicnt,  liis  iisuallv  calm  faic  lootci'd  savayr,  and 
in-  pliin)L,a'(i  iiis  cnul  spear  rciontjcsslv  aj^aiii  and  ayain  inlu  a  luige 
rtsli  tliat  we  liad  now  conu'  alons^sidc  of 

I  c«Ttainl\  llioiis^lu  tliat  wo  slioiiid  Ik-  upst.'t  tiiis  linn-,  for  the 
caiKHt  was  junipini^  and  rocl<in!:;;  in  a  manni-r  to  try  tht;  steadiest 
nerves,  and  tlie  Indians  were  actinyf  like  two  demons,  and  were  tu<j- 
'^\x\\^  at  tile  hujfe  fish,  in  \ain  efforts  to  i^r«'t  liim  al>oard.  On  my 
hands  and  l<nees  I  crept  aft,  so  as  to  ,i,nve  tlieni  more  room.  The 
canoi;  was  ilriftini,^  aimlesslv,  now  on  top  of  a  wave  and  the  ne.xt 
moment  in  tlie  troiijL,di,  and  I  feared  that  somi'  of  tiie  heaviest  seas 
would  hoard  us  and  entl  the  whole  matter.  .\t  last,  their  joint  efforts 
succeedetl  in  ijettinif  th(!  fish  h.i!';h  enoui^h  to  pull  him  over  thi-  j^^un- 
wale. 


Ml 


w 


/  \)rfioisi '  -  S/ioofin^i^. 


49' 


"  How  you  like  'im  |)or|.iisiii'— prctiy  ,:,m)0(I  I'lin.^"  said  Schatis.  as 
liL-  Ljraspctl  his  padillr  and  rcj^aiind  control  olliis  canoe. 

"It   you  call   this   Inn,  I    hope  ijiai  you  will  put  inc  ashore  hdort; 
you  l)cuin  in  earnest,  "  I  replied. 

I'resentI)    I    heard   iVoni  seaward  the  distant  hooniini,^  of  j^nnis.  as 
ot  some  ship  of  war  at  practice. 

"  What  ^uns  are  those.  .Sehatis.^" 

"duns.-'      Oh,  that's    Injuns  shootin'  porjjusis.      .Make   i^cx id  deal 
noise  (»n  salt  water." 

"  I  see  ini  ti\i-  canoes,"  said  i'ieltoina.  as  we  rode  on  the  crest  of 
a  wave. 

".Sartin,  must  lie  IiIl;  school  porpusis  in  rips  to-da\.  I.odk  (|uick; 
\-ou  sei-  'im  canoe.-'"  saiil  Seliatis. 

"  \o,  I  don't  see  an\  canoe." 

'■  \\n\  watch  'im.  1)\  -iin-liy  \(in  see   im." 

As  we  L^liiled  into  the  trou.L;h  a,i;ain,  1  saw  a  canoe  riding,'-  a  wave, 
with  an  Imlian  siandinj;  up  in  the  liow,  ant!  anotlu-r  sittin<;  in  the 
.stern,  paddling.  'I'hen,  in  a  short  time,  we  seemed  tu  he  surroumleil 
hy  canoes,  and  they  were;  constanll)  i)oppin<.r  up.  now  on  one  side, 
then  on  the  other,  and  at  short  intervals  their  _i,ains  flashed  in  the 
approachin',^  darkness. 

'•  llailn't  wc  better  j^it  ashore  somewhere.  .Sehalis.^" 
"  \  es.  we  _if()  pretty  soon  ;    kill  'im  one  mon;  porjius  tirst." 
"  1  don't  see  where  you  can  put  him  ;  that  one  )ou  killeil  last  was 
an  imnii.n.se  oni-.  " 

"Sartin,  that  very  h'v^  porpus.  hut  plenty  room  one  more,  s'po.se 
we  find  'im." 

Just  then  there  were  a  flash  and  a  roar,  and  a  canoe  passeil  rap- 
idly to  leeward  to  secure  their  pre\ . 

"My  turn  n(;.\t,"  saiil  Sehatis,  sumlin^-  up  in  his  canfie  a.!:,Min. 

"  l>ook  out.  .Sehatis — look  t)ut !    Bin  wave  comin' !"  cried  i'icltoma. 

I  thou^dit  that  :n\v  time  had  come,  hut  the  canoe,  dexterously 
handled  by  the  Indians,  roile  the  wave  like  an  ocean  bird. 

"  II  we  have  many  seas  like  this,  .Sehatis,  we  may  come  to  i,rrief 
in  one  of  them." 

"Xo  dantrer 'tall  :  only  ir„t  to  l)e  careful,  that's  all.  Vou'see, 
tide  just  turned  now  and  we  -^ot  too  far  in  vi\(\\  \  iiidve  out  little 
way,  then  i^ood  deal  smoother." 


i  'j 


1^1 


1 


lis 


1       :    ' 


492 


Porpoise  -  Slwotin}:^. 


"Dark  coniin'  now  pretty  (luick.  Sehatis ;  l)y-('iii-l)y  pretty  liarcl 
chance  landin'."  saiil  I'ieltoina. 

Hanj,^!   jToes  Sehatis's  j^iin  in  answer. 

"  What  was  that.  .Sebatis  ?  " 

"Only  a  small  littK-  porpiis, — too  small  count  'im,  most." 

in  a  few  iiioimnls  tluy  had  the;  porpoise  aboanl  and  paddled 
rapidly  tor  our  proposed  landing-place  at  ICel  Hrook.  where  we  were 
to  camp  for  the  ni^ht.  The  Indians  carried  the  cant)e  over  the  heach 
to  the  foot  of  a  hill,  where  some  tall  fir-trees  s^mvc  us  shelter.  Ihey 
then  turned  the  canoe  partly  on  its  side  ami  propped  it  up  with  piecis 
of  wood,  then  spread  the  sail  on  poles  placed  across  the  canoe,  and 
our  habitation  was  complete. 

.Sounil,  indeed,  was  our  slumber  that  night, — 

•■  W'hlk'  from  its  rocky  caverns  the  (lecji-voiced  ncinlihoriiif;  ocean 
Speaks,  and,  in  accents  disconsolate,  answers  tlie  wail  of  the  forest.'' 


THH.   MKIIIC.AN  (ik.WIJNc;. 


\i\     IHADDKIS    NokKIS, 


\l    IMuli      ,>!■     "AMi.KIl    \N       \SCiM  K  s     llonK 


UNTIL  within  a  tl;\v  jcurs,  tliat  |)i)ru()ii  of  Michigan  cxK-'iidinj,' 
iVoin    tiu!  forty -fourth  parallel   to  the  Straits  of   Mackinaw, 
(lotted  with    hcautifiil  lakes  and   travcrseil   hy  nian\-  a  clear, 
windin^L;-  river,  was  /crra  iiicoiiuild   to  the  tly-fisher  ;    and   altiiou<fh 
we  wen;  told   \ears  a<ro  hy  explorers  and   ailventurous  an,i,ders  that 
trout  in  _!^M-eat  numbers  and  of  lar.ij^e  si/e  were  taken  in  the  wat(;rs  of 
the  northern  portion  of  tlie  i)eninsula,  the  ,-,n-a\  lini^-  hy  its  true  name 
w.is  unknown,   and    tloes    not  now    form    a    subject    for    any    of  our 
an.ylino-  authors.      It  was  supposed  that,  except  in  the  Arctic  re.i,n'ons, 
it  did  not  exist  on   our  continent.      About   ten   years  a,i,'-o,  however, 
hunters,  and  those;  who  wert:  looking-  u|)  timber  lands,  bei^^ran    to  talk 
ot  a  whiti'-nutatetl  lish  witii  all  tin;  <^M\\yi  (|ualities  of  tlu'  trout,  which 
they  captun-d   in   streams  of  both    water-sheils — east  and   w(;sl  —  as 
an  addition  to  their  venison  and  '•  hanl-tack."    It  was  known  to  them 
as  the  "white  trout,"  the  "  Crawford  County  trout,"  and  under  other 
local  names,  until  a  si)ecimen  in  alcohol  was  sent  to  Professor   \..   I). 
Cope,   of  the   Philadelphia  .\cademy  of  Natural    .Scien:es,  who  de- 
scribed it  in  the  proceed! ns^-s  of  that  institution  in  the  vear  1S65,  and 
,i,Mve  it  the  scientific  name   of    Tliyiinxlliis  tricolor,  the  ,t,aMieric   name 
arisin):,^  from   the  fresh   thyme  y  smell   of  the   fish   when   hrst  taken 
from  the  water,  the  specific  appellation  h.:i.vin_o  refercMice  to  its  beauti 
tul  dorsal  fm.      Anil  yet  its  tliscovery  as  a   true  uraylinL,^  escaped  the 
notice  of    nearly  all   of  our   fly  fishers  :   and    to  the   few   who    mij^dit 
have  meditated  an  expetlition  in   search  of  it,  its  habitat   was  far  off 


M 


'C 


III 


:.<;ill 


m 

m 

liii  if 


!i  i 


If  *!: 


II 


:ir 


lli^ 


J;: 
% 


494 


The  Mit/ii^an  d  my  ling. 


and  then  almost  inaccx-ssihlf.  'I'hc  following'  passaj^'c.  however,  from 
"American  I'ish  Ciiltur*' "  (|).  19')).  I>>  ilie  present  writer,  anil 
piil)lisl)ecl  l)y  Porter  it  Coatcs,  in  1S07,  soon  after  I'rofessor  Cope 
(lescril)eil  the  fish,  attracttnl  tlu'  notict;  of  Mr.  J.  \'.  Ke  Moyne,  of 
Chicaj^o. 

"  While  on  a  troiit-fishinj.,'  i-xcursion  latitly  in  the  northern  part 
of  Pennsylvania,  I  met  a  very  intellij,fent.  thoiij^di  not  a  scienlilic 
|)erson,  who  infornieil  nie  that  in  explorin;;  some  timber  lands  on  the 
All  Sal)le.  in  Michij;an,  he  lame  across  a  new  kind  of  iroiil  which 
he  had  never  sein  hefore.  IVoni  his  description  it  was  doiihtk-ss 
tiiis  new  species  of  I' liy  null  I  lis.  lie  said  it  readily  took  a  bail  of 
a  pi'.'ci'  of  one  of  its  fellows,  a  pieci:  ol  meat  luinj;  used  H)  capt- 
ure the  first  fish  ;  and  that  it  was  xcry  heautitul  and  of  delicious 
flavor." 

I'he  followini;  summer,  after  consiiltiii}^  persons  iiUeresti-d  in 
timber  lands,  Mr.  Le  Moyne  packed  his  "  kit "  ami  found  his  way 
liy  sti'amer  to  Little  Traverse  May.  anil  thence  li)  canoe  throuj^h 
a  series  of  lakes  to  the  River  Jordan,  where  he  hail  ^reat  sport, 
not  only  with  jL^rayliiiiL;,  hut  with  trout  of  j^ood  si/e,  takinj.'  hoth 
from  the  same  pool,  and  not  unfrequently  one  of  each  on  the  same 
cast.  I  ma)  here  mention  that  the  Jordan  is  one  of  the  few 
streams  of  Michii^an  in  which  hoth  are  found.  Trout  are  unknown 
in  the  Manistee  and  .\u  .Sable.  M\  friend.  Mr.  I).  H.  I-'it/huj^h, 
Jr.,  of  Hay  City,  the  year  tollowin_L;',  took  them  in  the  Riflt;  and 
went  by  a  new  railroad  then  bein*,'  built  to  the  Herse)-  and  Muske- 
gon, walking  twenty  miles  of  the  distance.  He  had  been  waiting 
with  much  interest  the  extension  of  the  Jackson,  Lansing,  and 
Saginaw  Railroad  northward,  and  in  1873,  when  it  crossed  the 
Au  Sable,  he  launched  his  boat  high  up  on  that  lovely  river. 
Since  then  the  fame  of  the  rare  sporting  qualities  of  this  fish  has 
spread  among  anglers,  and  they  now  come  from  manj-  of  our  large 
towns  and  cities  (especially  those  of  the  \\'est)  to  camp  on  the 
banks  of  the   Michigan  rivers  and  enjoy  the  sport. 

The  European  sjiecies  (  T.  vcxillifcr)  is  mentioneil  by  all  English 
authors  on  angling  from  the  time  of  Dame  Juliana  Berners  to  the 
present.  The  opinion  is  advanced  by  some  of  them  that  it  was 
introduced  into  England  when  under  the  religious  sway  of  the  see  of 
Rome,  as  it  is  generally  found  in  rivers  near  the  ruins  of  old  nionas- 


■  r 


T 

1 

1 

1' 

'  , 

)'! 

ill 


I    , 


I    , 


!'■' 


The  Mitliigait  Cmyliiii^. 


497 


U-rics.  Sir  I  liimplinry  |)a\>,  in  liis  "  Saliiioiii.i"  (1S2H),  uroU;  of  it 
as  iiihal)itinjf  the  Avon,  the  Urc:,  tlic  Nye  and  the  Dec;  and  Holland 
(1839),  in  acUIilion  to  ihosc,  mentions  iIk-  Ti-cnt,  tlic  Dove,  the  Dtr- 
\vt:nt,  the  Wliaiic,  and  a  lew  oilier  rivers.  Sir  I  hnnpiire)'  Davy  also 
tells  us  that  it  is  tound  in  some  of  the  streams  ol"  the  .Alpine  valleys, 
antl,  \\r  intimates,  in  some  of  llie  rivers  of  .Sweck.n  and  .Norway.  A 
fri(Mid  of  the  wrilcM-,  who  ot  late  yctars  has  heen  in  the  habit  of  spend- 
ing his  summers  in  Uavaria,  has  had  fair  sport  with  .t^i'-iylinL;  in  the 
Isar  and  Trann,  near  Munich  and  Iraunstein,  as  also  in  the  Inn  and 
Salza,  and  mentions  the  nanu;s  of  a  few  (|uiet  l''.nj,dish  anj^^lers  who 
come  annually  in  .Septemhir  to  fish  these  rivers. 

iMu-opean  waters,  however,  wvw.  probably  never  as  prolili<  of 
}.,n-aylin)4-  as  thos<:  of  Michigan;  !(!-•  trout,  which  ivA-(\  lar<.(cly  on  the 
youn<;  of  all  tish,  an;  there  found  in  the  s.ime  streams.  In  Michij^ran 
rivcM-s  where  j,fraylin,n-  most  aboinid  there  are  no  trout,  and  the  fry 
of  their  own  and  other  species  are  never  found  in  their  stomachs. 
The  various  orders  of  flies  which  lay  their  e^fj.,fs  in  runninj,^  watt;r,  anil 
the  larva'  of  such  (lies,  apjx-ar  to  bt;  tii(Mr  onl\'  food. 

\Vrit(!rs  in  sportinjr  pa|)ers  have  rec(;ntly  claimed  that  j.rraylinjr 
have  also  been  found  in  th(!  older  .States  of  tlu.'  Union.  If  this  Ix; 
the  fact,  they  are  now  e.\tincl.  '{"ht-y  ar(;  said  to  ('.xist  in  some  few 
of  the  rivers  of  Wisconsin,  which  is  (|uite  proliable,  ;ind  also  in  .Mon- 
ti na  and  Dakota.  Dr.  Richardson,  in  his  "  I'auna  lioreali-.Aineri- 
cana,"  t,nves  not  onl\'  a  ^dowini^-  di^scription  of  the  cxcpiisite  beauty 
of  Hack's  i;raylin,!L,r  (  '/'.  sioiiifcr),  but  speaks  with  all  the  ardor  (jf  a 
true  an,t,der  of  its  ,<rame  (piaiities.  'I'he  {•■s{|iiimau.\  title,  //cii'/oo/c 
poioak,  tlenotin^-  wini^-like  (in,  Ik;  says,  alludes  to  its  ma,iL,Miitlc(Mit 
dorsal,  which,  as  in  the  Michit^^an  !.,n-aylin,L;,  e.xceeds  in  size  and 
bt;auty  that  of  the  European  sp(;ci('s. 

(ira'dinjj;-,  wlutrever  found,  are  sprini.^  spawners,  as  also  are  the 
smelt  and  the  capelin  or  spearliniL,'-.  .Ml  other  iUMKMM  of  llu;  salmon 
family  spawn  in  autumn.  The  usual  time  with  L,n-aylint,^  both  h(Te 
■and  in  I'luroiJe,  is  tin;  latter  part  of  .\pril  and  earU  in  May.  'I'hey 
do  not  push  (or  the  vc-ry  sources  of  rivers,  leapinji;-  falls  ami  flappintr 
sidewise  over  shallows  to  (ind  some  little  rivulet  as  trout  d'),  but 
deposit  tluM'r  ova  in  the  |)art-,  of  the  stream  where  they  an?  taken,  or, 
if  such  portions  are  not  of  the  propi.-r  temperatun;,  they  will  some- 
times seek  the  mouths  of  smaller  and  cooler  affluents,      'llu;  time  of 


[    ii 


r  ! 


!    <i 


->.     1 


'S  '■ ' 

III 

i      ^ 

i'- 

: 

M-''' 

1 

i^S' 

1 

I-!' 

w 

?■  ■ 

jii;  :• 

,  j 

;'? 


!  -ill 


M': 


n 


498 


yV/c  Micliignn  Cray  ling. 


their  spawning;  is  liiniUil  to  a  lew  ilays  or  a  wtt'k  or  so.  Of  tin; 
experts  who  have  <^o\\v  to  tiu'  An  Sahle  to  express  the  ova,  rertihze 
it,  ami  iirinij  it  l*"asi  to  iiitroikice  tiiis  t'lsh  into  the  Athintic  States, 
one  foiMul  that  tiu  y  were  not  reaii\  to  spawn,  and  the  next  season, 
another,  wlio  went  a  week  or  so  later,  foinul  that  the\-  had  spawned. 
I  iiave  taken  fry  as  lon^;'  as  ni\- little  tinker  on  the  first  of  Septeniht.'r, 
which  wen-  the  produce  of  eyj^s  s|)awiH'd  in  April.  I'hosi;  that  came 
h'OMi  ova  ol  the  preceding;'  M'ar  were  six  inches  lon^  ;  at  two  \ears 
oUl,  they  are  ten  or  twelve  inches  lon^  ;  at  thri'i-  yi'ars  oKl,  tlu'y  are 
thirteen  to  ("liteen  inches  lon_>;' ;  ami  at  four  years,  sixteen  or  se\-ente(;n 
inches,  ami  weiv;h  iwAW  thrc-e-ciiiarters  of  a  pound  to  ;i  pouml  and  a 
(|uarter;  each  succeedint^  year  adilins;  proportionateK  less  to  their 
leni;lh  and  niort-  to  their  ^irth.  .\n  ahumlance  or  ilericienc\  of  food, 
howevi'r,  has  much  inlluence  on  their  growth,  while  some  are  natu- 
rally more  thrifty  than  others.  Sir  lium|)hrey  Davy  says:  "(ira)- 
lini;  IuUcIkhI  in  jum-  l)ecome  in  the  same  year,  in  September  or 
October,  nim-  or  ten  inches  lonj;,  antl  weit^h  from  half  a  pouml  to 
ten  ounces,  and  the  next  \ear  ww  from  twelve  to  fifteen  inclu-s." 
On  this  point,  as  will  be  si-en  from  the  fori'L;oini;',  I  iliffer  with  him. 
I  think  he  must  have  written  from  hearsay. 

In  Michii^an,  in  a  day's  fishiny,  the  true-heartetl  angler  returns  to 
the  water  a  yreat  many  more  than  he  |)uts  in  his  livt-box.  lie  will 
keep  none  umler  a  half  pound,  antl  where  the  stn-ams  are  so  abun- 
dantly stocked,  he  will  not  bcj^rudj^c  their  liberty  to  all  unch'r  that 
wei_ohi.  Our  qraylini;-  are  much  more  slemler  than  the  luiropean 
species,  but,  if  we  credit  iMiylish  authors,  kV^  not  attain  as  lar^f  a 
size.  Three-fourths  of  a  |)ouml  with  us  is  a  s^tuxi  average'  size,  and 
out'  |.^'i  a  pound  ami  a  cjuarter  is  consideretl  a  lari^e  tish.  I  have 
lu-arii,  lunvt'vt'r,  of  their  beint;'  taken  in  the  Jortlan  over  three 
poumls.  Tlu'  yravlini^'  is  a  fish  of  more  symim;trical  |)ropt)rtions 
than  tlu'  trout,  although  it  has  not  the  vermilion  spots  am.1  bright 
colors  over  its  boily,  but  its  head  and  mouth  are  much  smaller,  and 
with  handsome,  prominent  e\es.  Its  habits  also  difter  materially 
from  those  of  the  trout.  It  is  never  found  in  the  strong,  tur!)ulent 
water  at  the  heail  of  a  rift,  but  in  tlu'  deeper  portions  of  the  smoothly 
oiidinjf  stream.  It  avoids  a  bottom  of  clay  or  the;  mosses  so  com- 
mon to  the  beds  of  Michigan  rivi-rs,  but  is  always  fouml  on  i^ravei 
or  sand.      Its  rise  is  strai_s;ht  up — sharp  ami  sudden,  and  when  its 


The  Michigan  C  my  ling. 


499 


attc'iuioii  is  oiicx'  drawn  to  tlic  artificial  line,  it  duos  not  turn  hack, 
as  a  trout  tlocs,  on  j^cttini;  a  si^rht  of  the  anj,der,  l)iit  in  its  caircr- 
ness  (lisrc<ranls  him  entirely,  and  in  runninjj;-  a  riviT  uitii  the  speeil 
ol  the  current,  or  even  if  the  hoat  is  poled  aloni;-  down  stream,  it 
Ireciuently  takes  thi!  tly  within  a  few  feet  of  the  pole  or  the  hoat. 
Its  play  is  ([uite  as  vij^orous  as  that  of  the  trout,  and  it  leaps 
frequently  above  the  surface  of  the  vvatiM"  hefori-  it  is  sufficiently 
exhausted  to  he  drawn  in.  There  is  this  difference,',  however,  be- 
tween tlu!  two.  The  trout,  like  a  certain  denomination  of  Christians, 
sc!ems  to  believe  in  "  hnal  perseverance,"  and  will  kick  ami  stru^ule 
to  the;  last,  even  as  it  is  liftiul  in  ;  while  the  y^raylinu.  after  you  have 
suflicitMitly  overcomi-  its  obstinate  pluck  to  ,i;et  its  lieatl  above  water, 
is  taken  in  with  pentlent  tail,  as  much  as  to  say.  "  It's  .ill  up";  but  as 
soon  as  it  touches  the  lloor  of  tin-  boat,  its  llai)piu!4  anil  llounderir.s^ 
bet,nn.  if  it  takes  a  sheer  across  the  current,  with  its  lar^e  dorsal 
fin.  it  offers  j^reate^r  resistance  than  the  trout.  Wnien;  they  an;  so 
numerous,  one  seldom  uses  the  landin,i,r-nc't,  for  few  escape  by  break- 
injj  away,  and  if  they  tlo,  there;  an;  more  to  take  holil  at  the  next 
cast. 

If  in  fishinsj  with  a  whip  of  three  fliis  the  anj,der  hooks  a  fish 
on  either  of  his  dro|)pers.  the  stretcher  fly  as  it  sails  around  beneath 
is  pretty  sure  of  enticino  another,  and  not  unfrequently  the;  elisen- 
<,fa(,rod  dre)p|)er  he)e)ks  a  thirel  fish.  Se)mctimes.  as  I  have  sat  m\ 
the  cover  of  the-  live;-be)x.  I  have  loe)ked  ele)wn  te)  see  three  e)f 
these  brij^ht  fish,  after  I  hati  t;xhausteel  them,  all  in  a  re)w.  their 
elorsi.l  fins  e-rect  anel  waving-  in  the  clear  water  like  se)  many  beau- 
tiful leave-s  of  the  ce)leus.  Nor  is  the;  j^raylinjf  in  takinj^-  a  fly  as 
chary  a  t'lsh  as  the  trout.  ( )n  a  perfectly  still  water  yeni  may  see 
the-  latter  risino  anel  takini,^  in  the  minute  natural  flies,  when  the 
ve'riest  artificial  mielue'  will  not  tempt  it;  but  let  e'vt;u  a  h\i,du  bree-ze; 
spring  up  anel  a  ripple  appear  e)n  the  surface,  anel  the;n  it  canne)t 
elistinguish  the-  natural  fre)m  the;  artificial,  anel  will  take-  holel.  The- 
oraylinj^-.  on  tlie  ce)ntrary.  is  the  most  vw^vw  imso|)histicate'el  fish 
imajrinable.  \Vlu;n  it  sees  anythinsj:  be-arini^-  the-  most  re-mote  sem- 
blance e)f  life-,  it  -'  ,Li:e)es  fe)r  it."  e-ven  if  the-  water  is  as  smoe)th  as  a 
mirre)r. 

The  whe)le  e)f  Micliii,^an  seVuth  e)f  the  Straits  e)f  Mackinaw  may 
certainly   be  called   flat  country.      The   only    risinj,'    ^^rounds  to   be 


.I'-U 


m 


»  K?, 


if  ii 


500 


The  Michigan  Gray  ling. 


■'/:  ^A 


■':'  :  S!i 


'r 

i      ' 
1 

I' 


found  are  a  few  sandy  eminences, — they  can  scarcely  he  called  hills, — 
the  formation  of  which  we  leave  the  ifeoloi^ist  to  account  for.  And 
yet  the  rivers  abradinjr  against  these  sand-hills  occasionally  cause 
precipitous  bluffs  (few  of  which  exceed  a  hundred  teet),  or  such  an 
elevation  as  is  known  in  a  lumberman's  parlance  as  a  "  roll-way." 

There  is  a  gradual  but  almost  imperceptible  elevation  from  liay 
City  or  tirand  Rapid  to  the  region  where  grayling  are  found.  l""rom 
the  former  to  Grayling,  where  the  railroad  crosses  the  Au  Sable, 
a  distance  of  nearly  a  hundred  miles,  there  is  a  rise  of  seven  hun- 
dred feet,  which  gives  the  rivers  an  average  current  of  about  two 
and  a  half  miles  an  hour.  Wherever  there  is  a  contraction  in  the 
width  of  the  stream,  however,  especially  around  a  bend,  its  velocity 
may  be  three,  four,  or  even  five  miles,  but  on  account  of  the  absence 
of  rocks  in  the  bottom,  it  almost  invariably  flows  smoothly.  The 
strength  of  the  current  can  only  be  seen  where  the  ends  of  half- 
sunken  logs  or  "sweepers"  project  above  the  surface,  or  when  the 
canoeman  turns  his  prow  up-stream. 

The  grayling  region  on  the  Lake  Huron  water-shed  has  a  top 
stratum  of  coarse  white  sand.  On  the  streams  flowing  toward  Lake 
Michigan,  the  sand  is  yellow,  with  more  or  less  admixture  of  vege- 
table loam.  The  rains  falling  on  these  sandy  plains  and  percolat- 
ing through  meet  with  a  lower  stratum  of  impervious  clay,  and 
thus  form  under-ground  courses  which  crop  out  at  the  margin  or  in 
the  beds  of  the  streams  and  keep  them  at  the  temperature  of 
spring  water. 

The  eighth  longitudinal  line  west  from  Washington  may  he 
considered  the  apex  of  the  water-sheds,  declining  East  and  West, 
although  he  head-waters  of  streams  occasionally  interlock.  Hy  a 
short  "carry,"  one  can  pass  from  the  head-waters  of  the  Manistee 
to  those  of  the  Au  Sable.  I  have  seen  marks  on  both  of  these 
streams  that  gave  evidence  that  surveyors  did  so  forty  years  ago, 
and  have  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  route  used  by  the  Indians  in  cross- 
ing from  Lake  Michigan  to  Lake  Huron. 

The  country,  except  on  the  barrens,  furnishes  a  fine  growth  of 
white  and  yellow  pine,  as  well  as  oak,  beech,  maple,  and  other 
hard  woods.  White  cedars — the  arbor  vita;  of  the  East — invari- 
ably fringe  the  banks  of  rivers  a  few  miles  below  their  sources, 
which  are  generally  in  ponds  or  lakes.     These  trees  appear  to  love 


If;'' 


The  Michigan  Grayling. 


501 


.-""^'^ti 

^BpC^^^^^C' 

jIj^l 

Msg^ 

mfe 

^yj 

[  '?:%.          ' 

S^a 

^HjI 

I'^'^'id 

^ 

K 

^^ 

■i^"'--  -- 

Tm 

VIKW    ()\     lllK    MANISTKE. 


Hpriiiif  water,  and  do  not  appear  until  the  stream  has  accpiired  tliat 
temperature,  (irowint;'  on  the  hanks  of  the  streams,  the  current 
washes  away  the  loose  soil  from  their  roots,  which  causes  ihem  to 
incline  over  and  at  last  to  fall  into  the  water;  ancf  these  are  called 
"sweepers."  These  rivers,  from  the  constant  inllu.x  of  s[)ring  water, 
never  freeze,  and  owinj,^  to  the  slijrht  water-shed  and  sandy  top-soil 
are  not  subject  to  freshets,  a  spring-  rise  of  two  feet  heim^^  considered 
excessive.  .Such  streams,  here  and  in  luirope,  are  the  home  of  the 
j^raylinjj;,  for  it  loves  water  of  a  low,  evcMi  temperature  and  a  smooth, 
steady  current. 

The  yame-laws  of  Michigan  recently  enacted  forbiil  the  spearing' 
and  netting  of  grayling  at  all  times,  and  do  not  admit  of  them  being 
taken  even  with  hook  and  lint;  from  January  until  June.  These  tisii 
accjuire  condition  soon  after  spawning,  but  are  better  in  autumn  and 
in  season  nearl\-  all  winter.  So  after  tiie  first  of  Se|)teml)er  the 
sportsman  can  unite  shooting  with  fishing.  .Several  summers  ago, 
in  .August,  whik;  running  the  .\u  .Sal)le.  we  counted  twelve  deer  and 
two  bears.  .\s  they  were  out  of  season,  and  my  friend  I'it/hugh  was 
a  stickler  for  the  observance  of  the  game-laws  in  every  instance,  we 
resisted  the  temptation  to  shoot  them. 


S  ''ll 


i[; 


'^  -IIP 

}'"  jl; 

1    I      '    c 

hi:.:  T 

IMii 


.».  .TO 

Ml   '  \\r' 


III 


■1 

Iff 

;  '1 

Hi  W'  ' 

m ' 

■lii  ' 

ib:| 

si  ■■>''' 

f'i'.f 

I , 


502 


7'/ic  Michigan  G  my  Hug. 


The  coiintr)  1  have  described  has,  of  course,  none  of  that  awe- 
inspiriiiir  scenerj-  we  find  ow  the  shores  of  Lake  .Sii|)t;rior  ;  l)ut  witli 
its  clear,  e\er-flo\viiin,  ever-windinjj;  rivers  over  white  and  yellow 
sands,  with  tjraceful  cedars  projectinjr  at  a  sharp  anirle  from  the 
banks,  and  every  bend  of  the  stream  opening  a  new  view,  it  is  novel 
and  pleasing-  to  one  who  has  been  shut  up  all  winter  in  a  crowded 
city.  In  rimninj^  a  <i[raylin<f  stream,  the  feeling  is  one  of  peace  and 
(luietude.  There  are  no  sontr-birds  in  those  deep  woods.  Oni;  only 
hears  the  far-off  fallint^  of  some  old  forest  tree,  or  that  weird  sound 
caused  by  the  rubl)in<r  of  the  branch  of  one  tree  a^^ainst  that  of 
another,  as  thev  are  swayed  to  and  fro  by  the  wind,  and  in  the 
distance  one-  can  almost  fancy  that  it  is  a  human  voice.  Otherwise, 
all  is  as  silent  as  death. 

My  first  raid  upon  the  i^rayling  was  in  Aut^ust.  1S74,  with  Mr. 
Fitzhui^h.  of  Hay  City,  on  the  Au  Sable.  We  ran  this  river  from 
Ciraylinir,  on  the  northern  Iiranch  of  the  Jackson,  Sayinaw,  and 
Lansintc  Railroad,  to  Thompson's,  a  distance  of  a  hundred  and  sixty 
miles.  I'roni  Thompson's,  after  loadin*,^  our  two  boats  on  a  stout 
two-horse  waj^on  and  occu|iyin(r  another  with  springs,  we  drove 
twenty-five  miles  to  Tawas  City,  and  then,  after  a  fi-w  hours  on  a 
steamer,  back  to  Hay  City.  There  is  no  grayling- fishing  at  the 
station  called  (irayling,  nor  until  one  gets  four  or  five  miles  down 
the  stream  where  the  cedars  appear,  hrom  this  as  far  as  we  ran 
it, — and  there  was  yet  si.xty  miles  of  it  below  Thompson's, —  it  is 
a  beautiful  stream,  much  prettier,  1  think,  more  rapid,  and  less 
obstructed  with  sweepers,  than  the  Manistee.  The  ilistance  by  land 
is  about  seventy  miles.  On  our  second  da\,  we  killed  and  salted 
down — heads  and  tails  off — a  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  of 
fish,  besides  eating  all  we  wanted.  In  one  hanging  rift  close  by 
the  bank,  as  \a.\\  Iswel,  my  pusher,  held  on  to  the  cedar  boughs, 
I  took  at  five  casts  fifteen  fish,  averaging  three-(|uarters  of  a  ])()und 
each.  The  following  da\-,  we  fished  along  leisurely  until  we  had 
our  live-b().\es,  containing  each  sixty  pounds,  so  full  that  the  fish 
began  to  ilic!.  Then  we  passed  over  splentlid  pools  in  which 
we  couKl  see  large  .schools  of  grayling  on  the  bottom  without 
casting  a  fly ;  for  we  would  not  destroy  them  in  mere  wanton- 
ness. In  a  few  days,  howevtT,  we  came  across  occasional  timbt-r 
camps,  when   we  commenced  fishing  again,  and  supplied  all  hands 


"i 


I  lie  Michigan  G  my  ling. 


503 


ON     TFir,     M  AMSTKK. 


with  fresh  fisli.  Oiu;  can  leave  Hav  Cit\-  liy  railroail  in  the  niorn- 
ini^  and  arrive  at  (jraylinn  early  enout^h  in  the  at'ternoon  to  embark 
and  drop  downstream  seven  or  t'ioht  miles  tht'  same  nis^dit.  He 
should,  however,  eni;;ai;e  boats  anil  pushers  beforehand. 

There  are  two  large  branches,  flowing  almost  as  much  as  the 
main  stream,  that  enter  the  Au  Sable.  The  south-west  comes  in 
about  forty-five  miles  below  drayling  and  the  north  branch  si.xty 
miles  below.  On  this  last  stream  there  is  a  sluice  dam,  and  when 
it  is  let  off  to  float  logs  during  the  summer  and  autumn,  the 
water  is  tliscolored  somewhat,  and  the  hsh  do  not  rise?  as  well. 
One  can  gel  all  the  fishing  he  wants  b)  running  as  far  down  as 
the  south-west  branch,  which,  as  already  statetl,  is  forty-five  miles 
by  water,  anil  is  only  twelve  miles  back  to  (irayling  by  land. 
He  can  engage  a  wagon  at  (irayling  to  come  with  ice  on  a  stated 
day  and  haul  back  his  boats,  his  luggage',  and  his  fish,  thus  saving 
the  labor  of  pushing  back  ui)-stream,  which  would  occup)-  two 
days  of  incessant  toil. 

When  \  fished  the  Manistee  several  years  ago,  I  went  from 
(irayling  with  .Mr.  l*"itzhii;>Ji  and  another  friend,  accompanied  by 
our  pushers,  over  "  the  barrens,"  a  ilistance  of  eight  miles,  to  a 
camp  established   by   I.    V .    liabbit,   to  fish   with   hook    and  line  for 


If! 

■  i  l; 

\.\ 

i| 

1  ', 

H.''-'' 


'M' 


504 


I  he  .\/ic/iiirnn  (inty/iN!;:^. 


'Si!. 


I    * 


r*  « 


m 

f 
>  I' 


tin,'  Ra)  City  and  l)«'tn)it  markets.  We  inailc  a  |>cniian('nt  camp 
four  iniKis  In-low  lial)l)il's,  ami  lishccl  five;  clays,  yivini;  him  tliri.-( - 
fourths  of  our  fish,  which  he  came  for  every  ila\.  aiul  which 
(keepiiiir  noni:  under  a  half  pound)  amounteil  to  over  live'  hundred 
poumls. 

Onv.  of  my  most  pleasant  trips,  however,  was  that  of  the  latter 
part  of  Auj^ust  and  early  in  Septtniher  of  the  followinj^  year,  when, 
in  compan)  with  two  youn^  friends,  i  spent  two  weeks  on  the 
Manisti;e.  \\\'  went  hy  tiie  (irand  Rapids  and  Indiana  Railroad  to 
Mancelona,  well  up  towaril  the  Straits  of  Mackinaw.  I  lere  we 
loaded  boats,  stores,  and  camp  eciuijjaj^e  on  a  waj^on  drawn  hy  a  pair 
of  stout  horses,  and  JoiuMieyeil  eIi'V(  '  miles  east  to  tin;  head-waters 
of  tlu-  main  branch.  Our  trip  was  dashed  with  a  spice  of  adventure 
and  a  L;()od  di;al  of  haril  work.  We  had  struck  the  stream  his/her  up 
than  we  expected.  It  was  small,  scarcely  sufficitMit  to  float  our  boats, 
and  still  hail  the  temperalun;  it  had  accpiired  in  the  little;  lake-  which 
was  its  source.  There  were  no  cedars,  which  oiiK  appear  when  the 
streams  have  flowed  far  enoui;h  from  the  poiuls  to  feel  the  influence 
of  sprins;  water.  On  the  morning-  of  the  second  da\-,  we  came  to  the 
cellars  ami  cold  water,  and  with  them  the  sweepers,  which  are  cedars, 
as  already  described,  which  have  been  undermined  by  the  current  and 
have  fallen  into  the  wat^r  and  always  across  the  stream.  We  had 
three  days  and  a  half  of  hard  chopi)int;  and  hauling  our  boats  over 
huii^e  cedar  loijs,  some  of  which   had  probabl)-  lain  then;  for  a  c(;nt- 

ur) for  a  cedar  lojr,    if  it  remains  in   the  water,  never  rots.      ( )n 

coming  to  some  of  these  lo.tjs,  we  hail  to  make  a  "carrv,"  placintj  our 
luijijaije  on  their  mossy  covered  trunks  and  pullini;  our  em|)ty  boats 
over.  We  would  then  load  up  and  oo  on  to  cut  more  sweepers  and 
make  more  carries.  .\t  last,  the  stream  widened  and  was  free  of 
sweejiers,  and  we  had  maonitkent  fishint,r.  '|"|u;  trrajlint;^  were  per- 
fectly reckless  and  would  take  one's  flies  within  ten  feet  of  the  boats. 
It  was  virgin  water;  no  fly  had  heretofore  been  cast  on  it.  After  a 
day's  sport,  we  came  to  the  sweepers  again,  anil  hail  a  daj-  and  a 
half  more  with  them  and  half-sunken  logs  and  a  few  carries.  .\t 
two  or  three  of  these  carries,  the  logs  were  over  two  feet  through. 
Mosses  had  grown  and  spread  on  them  until,  as  we  saw  bv  certain 
signs,  bears  used  them  as  a  highway.  ( )n  one  we  found  thrifty 
cedars  growing  at  regular  intervals  from  the  parent  trunk  that  were 


I'lic  Mii/i{^iT(iu  Cray  I  ill ^. 


505 


s\vi;i:i'].U!>   IN   Till:   manisikk. 


more  tliiiii  half  a  c:(,'ntur\-  old.  Soon  the  stream  increased  so  miicli 
in  volume,  and  was  so  wide,  thai  a  tree;  Tallin}^'  across  could  nol 
obstruct  tlu;  |)assaL,n,-  of  our  boats  ;  ami  tmally  we  canK;  t(j  open 
water  aijain.  And  so  \\v  ran  the  stream  dcnvn  to  Walton  Junction, 
a  huiulred  and  fifty  miles  by  water,  while  it  was  scarce  fifty  on  a 
Ijee-line. 

The  boat  used  on  m\  first  trip  is  worth  description.  It  was  built 
of  white  pine;  bottom,  1  inch  thick;  sides,  ;,' ;  16  feet  lon^i';  2.  10 
wide  on  t(jp,  2  .  4  at  bottom,  and  with  a  sheer  of  three  inches  on  each 
siile.  The  bottom  was  nearl\-  K;\'el  for  ci<,du  feet  in  the  c(;nter,  with 
a  sheer  of  five  inches  to  the  bow  and  seven  inclu;s  to  stern.  'Ww 
liv«'-bo.\  was  si.\  f(;et  from  bow,  e.xtendinjr  back  two  feet.  ']"he  sides 
were  nailed  to  the  bottom.  Its  wei_i,dit  was  eiL,dity  pounds,  and  it 
carried  two  men — the  anjj^ler  and  the  pusher — with  200  pounds  of 
lu^}j;a>,a;.  With  two  coats  of  |)aint,  it  cost  about  fifteen  dollars.  The 
angler  sits  on  the  movable  cover  of  the  live-box,  which  is  water-tij^ht 
from  other  portions  of  the  boat,  and  lias  holt.-s  bon.-d  in  sidi^s  and 
bottom  to  admit  of  the  circulation  of  the  water  t(j  kee])  tin:  fish  alive, 
and  as  he;  captures  liis  fish  he  slips  th(.-m  into  holes  on  the  ri^ht  and 
left  sides.  .'\n  axe  was  always  taken  alont^  to  clear  the  ri\er  of  falh.'n 
lo^s  and  sweepers. 


t  i 


ii 


im; 


506 


V'/ic  Michigan  Cray  ling. 


My  customary  tackle  on  these  excursions  is  a  twelve-foot  rod  of 
about  eight  and  a  half  ounces ;  leaders  eight  feet  long,  and  flies  on 
hooks  ranging  from  No.  7  to  No.  10  (O'Shaughnessy).  I  have 
found  most  of  the  flies  used  on  Pennsylvania  streams  effective,  and 
one  can  scarcely  go  amiss  in  his  selection.  One  summer,  I  used  for 
two  weeks  the  same  whip,  viz.:  "Professor"  for  the  stretcher,  '.Silver 
Widow"  for  first,  and  "White- winged  Coachman"  for  second  drop- 
per. The  first  is  tied  with  guinea-fowl  feather  for  wings,  an  aml)er 
or  yellow-dyed  hackle  for  legs,  a  yellow  floss  body  wound  with  gold 
tinsel,  and  three  sprigs  of  scarlet  ibis  for  tail.  The  second  has  black 
wings,  black  hackle,  and  black  b(xly  wound  with  silver  tinsel.  The 
third  has  white  wings,  red  hackle,  undyed,  and  body  of  peacock  hurl. 

.\s  to  stores.  We  found  that  for  five  men,  including  pushers, 
the  following  were  about  the  right  quantities  for  a  two  weeks' 
supply:  50  lbs.  flour,  i  bushel  potatoes,  25  lbs.  of  breakfast  bacon, 
12  lbs.  butter,  Yi  peck  of  onions,  with  corn  meal,  tea,  coffee, 
sugar,  condensed  milk,  a  jar  of  pickles,  and  a  few  cans  of  corn  and 
tomatoes.  Bread  is  a  difficult  thing  to  take  or  to  keep  in  good 
condition.  I  would  advise,  therefore,  the  taking  of  a  portable  sheet- 
iron  stove,  which,  with  a  baker  and  all  other  appliances  and  conven- 
iences, does  not  weigh  over  thirty-five  pounds.  With  a  box  of 
yeast  powder,  hot  rolls  can  be  had  at  every  meal. 


n\ 


.'4 


u 


ir 


'II 


SHA-iRoir  risiiixc 


lis     A.    K.   MACDONOl  (ill. 


WllA'I'  is  a  sca-trout?  /\  problem,  to  Ijecrin  with,  thoujrh 
quite  a  minor  one,  since  naturalists  have  for  some  time  past 
kept  specimens  \vaitin.tr  their  leisure  to  decide  whether  he 
is  a  cadet  of  the  noble  salmon  race  or  merely  the  chief  of  the  familiar 
brook-trout  tribe.  .Science  inclines  to  the  former  view,  upon  certain 
slijrht  but  sure  indications  noted  in  fin-spines  and  irJU. covers.  The 
witness  of  jruides  and  ^raffers  leads  the  same  way,  and  the  Indians 
all  say  that  the  habits  of  the  sea-trout  and  the  brook-trout  differ, 
and  that  the  contrast  between  the  markings  of  the  two  kinds  offish, 
taken  from  the  same  pool,  forbids  the  idea  of  their  identity.  Yet 
the  testimony  of  many  accomplished  sportsmen  affirms  it.  The 
gradual  change  of  color  in  the  same  fish,  as  he  ascends  the 
stream,  from  plain  silvery  gra\'  to'deepest  dotted  bronze;  his  haunts 
at  the  lower  end  of  pools  behind  rocks,  and  among  roots  ;   his  action 

in  taking  the  fly  with  an  upward  leap,  not  downward  from  above, 

all  these  resemblances  support  the  theory  that  the  sea-trout  is  only 
an  anadromous  brook-trout.  If  the  form  and  disposition  of  the  spots 
are  material,  then  new  names  of  species  need  to  be  devised  for 
the  many  varieties  of  California  trout,  some  blotched  with  color  like 
a  snake's  skin,  others  striped  from  gills  to  tail  with  a  single  vermilion 
streak.  Indeed,  the  difference  in  color  between  the  brook-trout  and 
the  sea-trout  ranges  within  a  far  narrower  scale  than  that  between 
parr,  grilse,  and  salmon.  The  question  has  already  been  before  a 
jury,  as  so  many  questions  involving  facts  of  science  do  curiously 
drift  under  the  sagacious  ken  of  that  palladium  of  our  liberties  so 
unfit  to  solve  them.      Certain  poachers  of  the  south  shore  of  Long 


:■  i  'ii 

i;  ii 


;  3  -'^f 


hi 


1    I*  a 


1 

■||f  1 

m 

■i  Kii  ■  'S' 

II 

rl 

5o8 


S('(t  -  Tw///  /^is/iiiig. 


V ; 


I'l  « ■' 


Island,  char^fcd  with  invadinjf  the  close  time  for  hrook-trout  in  that 
lovely  region  of  sea-seekinjf  runlets,  alle^^^ed  in  their  defense  the 
identity  of  the  burden  of  their  creels  with  the  sea-trout,  whose 
cominjj^s  and  j^'oinj^s  are  hound  l)y  no  inland  law.  The  jury,  incom- 
petent either  to  ac(|uit  or  convict,  hail  the  j,a)od  sense  to  disaj^^ree. 
And  thus,  until  a  fmal  word  of  authority  upon  the  contents  of  their 
alcohol -jars  comes  from  the  cabinet  of  the  learned,  this  fish  is  still  a 
fuj^itive  from  the  jurisiliction  of  science. 

Careless  of  bein^^  classified  so  lon^  as  he  can  escape  becominj^r  a 
specimen,  the  sea-trout  leisurel\  ^rows  durinj^  his  early  years  to  an 
avera.i^e  weis^ht  of  from  two  to  two  and  a  half  pounds.  Ihey  are 
often  taken  of  much  j^reater  size.  .Amonj.f  a  humlred  fish,  some  seven 
or  ei^ht  will  reach  a  wei<fht  of  three  pounds  and  upward.  They 
are  often  cauj^ht  weij^hinj^  si.x  or  eij^ht,  and  many  more  are 
found  weighinj^  between  one  and  two  pounds.  It  is  a  fair  conclusion 
that  the  usual  weight  of  the  adult  fish  may  be  fi.xed  at  two  pounds 
and  a  half,  rej;;ardin}.j  the  smaller  ones  as  adolescents,  and  the  larger 
as  monsters  ;  for  the  latter  are  dull  and  heavy  in  action.  They 
take  the  fly  with  a  surge  instead  of  a  break,  and  drag  more  than 
they  leap  or  rush  when  hooked,  seeming  unaware  of  either  their 
strength  or  their  danger  until  they  are  fairly  netted.  On  the  con- 
trary, a  two-pound  fish  is  fiiU  of  mettle  and  ruse  —  one  would  say  of 
fire,  in  any  other  element.  He  spurns  the  water  for  the  fly,  tears 
the  line  whirring  out,  zigzags,  leai)s  and  darts,  and  yields  some 
moments  later  than  his  heavier  rival  whose  nose  he  has  thrust  aside 
to  snatch  the  bait. 

If  Soyer  could  open  his  mouth  on  the  subject,  and  bid  his  |)alate 
judge  —  Soyer,  who,  alas,  has  gone  from  the  active  to  the  passive 
state  of  cooking,  if  his  epigram  epitaph,  " Soyc~  tranqnillc"  be  true, 
or  was  it  written  for  his  wife  ?  —  he  would  murmur,  anud  grateful  tears 
over  the  e.vperiment,  that  a  sea-trout  is  either  younger  than  his 
prime  or  past  it,  unless  two  or  two  and  a  half  pounds,  neither  more 
nor  less,  offer  the  judicious  epicure  the  acme  of  firmness,  pinky  flake 
and  sapid  curd.  Their  vagrant  habits  forbid  our  learning  where  the 
greater  |jart  of  their  growth  is  gained  or  what  its  precise  yearly 
rate  of  increase  is.  The  way  of  a  ship  in  the  sea,  confessed  by  the 
wise  king  one  of  the  four  mysteries,  is  a  primer's  lesson  compared 
with  the  way  of  a  fish  that  wanders  through  sea  and  river  both. 


Scd  -  Troff/  /''/'s/////fr. 


509 


LITTLCIIMiarAttlN 


/'Ik"         A 


11  _J». _  '"  IW'     llj 

-I    'a.  v\    ,  \.y''\i!i->\>,i'-*-<.-tJ'? 


MAI'    (ir    SOMK    si:  >.-TKi)UT    WATKKS. 


Sea-trout  arc  found  in  both  hemispheres  in  the  northern  beU  of 
the  north  temperate  zone.  Neither  to  Asia  nor  to  South  America 
are  they  known  to  resort.  Tlieir  geojrraphical  (nstril)ution  seems 
mari<ecl  in  lonjj^itude  by  the  Norway  border  of  luirope  and  the 
western  coast  of  our  own  country.  Their  ran^^e  northward  is 
probably  limited  only  by  such  conditions  as  exclude  the  possibility 
of  life.  In  the  late  Polar  e.xpedition,  Dr.  Moss  succeeded  in  capt- 
uring a  small  salmonoid  inhabiting  fresh-water  lakes  as  far  north  as 
82°  40'.  Along  the  whole  coast  of  Labrador  and  the  Dominion, 
and  up  the  St.  Lawrence  River  nearly  to  Ouebec,  they  abound. 

Nor  is  saltness  of  their  medium  essential  to  life,  .so  long  as  they 
find  an  opportunity  for  migration  to  and  from  the  depths.  In  Lake 
Superior  and  the  streams  flowing  into  it  on  the  northern  shore,  thev 
are  plentiful  at  the  usual  seasons. 

While  in  the  sea,  anadromous  fishes  are,  of  course,  lost  to 
observation  ;  but  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  they  rove  aim- 
lessly through   it,   or    resort    to  very   great   depths   or  very   great 


m 


'I 


,  i  !  ■■  '  I 


:  ,'i]. 


t  i,K 


4  m 

t'ii 
if 


'^^ii' 


5'o 


Scd-  Tyoiit  I'isliiu}^. 


II; '; 

•in;: 

I     !  r 


m\ 


m 


(iistanccs  Iroiii  its  shores.  Ihc  anmi;il  return  of  many,  if  not  all, 
of  the  survivors  of  those  hatched  in  a  particular  riv<r  to  tlu;  very 
nooks  of  the  coast  and  tidal  streams  where  their  life  as  younj^  fry 
began  is  undouhted.  I'lxtraordinary  as  so  siilitlc  an  instinct  seems, 
com|)ared  to  our  s(Mises,  with  their  limited  relations  to  the  world 
ahout  us,  it  is  not  more  wonderful  than  that  which  j^aiides  the 
returninj,^  fli}.,dil  of  birds,  throujL,di  an  element  as  trackless,  to  their 
orijrinal  nests.  IIk,-  fre(|uent  <:,\i)erimi'nts  of  Scotch  ix|)erls  with 
marked  salmon,  ami  lately  those  of  our  own  fish  ( ouunissioners 
with  shad,  prove  that  this  recurring  and  im<;rriniL,^  sense  of  loiality 
is  not  an  oKl  wives'  fal)le,  hut  a  true  discriminatinL^  and  impellin^^ 
hciiinocli. 

I'lven  when  they  "swi:n  into  oin-  ken,"  the  study  of  tin;  ways  o( 
fish  is  perplexinj^^  and  uncertain,  lur  and  feather  do  not  elude  us 
as  fin  does.  I  he  naturalist  can  track  a  Ixast  to  his  h.umts,  and 
finds  him  tantrihU;  and  of  the  earth.  I>irds  <lescend  from  th<;ir 
iieij^^hts  to  nest  and  live  within  his  view.  I'ish  fleet  like  shadows 
throujfh  their  mobile  ehnnent,  and  much  of  th(  science  ntj^ardiii).^ 
them  must  l)e  as  shiftin^f  and  waverinj.,f  as  lij.,dit  in  wal(.r, — much 
that  j^oc's  with  their  vagrant  and  invisible  existence  must  always 
remain  within  th(' sphert;  of  conjecture.  WHien,  tlM;refor<;,  the  return 
of  migratory  fish  to  their  home  rivers  is  spoken  of,  absolute  precision 
as  to  times  and  ag(;s  is  not  intended.  .Sf^ne  salmon  an;  found  in 
rivers,  and  the;  sanu;  is  probably  true  '  ,•;■  •'•out,  in  every  month 
of  the  year,  at  every  stage  of  growth,  bod,  .isc(mding  and  d(;s((;nd- 
ing.  liut  then;  is  a  gen(;ral  law  that,  at  a  fix(;tl  p(;riod  and  for  the 
purpose  of  spawning,  guid(;s  th(;  great  body  of  migratory  fish  up  to 
the  head-waters  of  the  tidal  streams  out  of  which  t!i(;y  originally 
cam(;. 

Along  the  Canadian  coast,  s<;a-lrout  begin  to  pniss  in  toward 
fn;sh  water  in  the  latter  part  of  July.  They  (;nt<;r  tin;  (;stuar)  of 
th(;  St.  Lawrence  by  myriads  upon  myriails,  stMiding  off  (l(;tachm(;nts 
north  and  south  as  they  movt;  on  until  tin;  main  body  is  scatt<;red 
into  groups,  of  which  those  tending  to  th<;  upper  river  make  th(;ir 
appt'urance  off  the  Sagu(;nay  during  th<'  first  week  in  .\ugust.  Fn 
th(;  particular  stream  of  which  <;xp(;ri<;nce  (;nables  us  to  speak  most 
definitely,  their  arrival  is  timed  with  singular  punctuality  for  the  sth 
or  6th  of  August,     Often  a  pool  that  on  one  of  those  days  held  only 


Sc(i-  I  roll  t  I'isliing. 


5" 


Kl   :.MM.      I  III       I    \>   MINI      I;  M'll 


r     I  \  w  K I 


11  lin^ci'iii}^  and  iiKliffcrciU  salmon  or  two  on  their  upwanl  run  would 
become  tilled  dtiriuL,^  tlie  followint;  nii^^lu  with  the  \anj^niard  ot  the 
advancin;^  hody  of  larj^rc  sea  trout.  In  a  L^eneral  wa),  it  ma\-  l»e  said 
that  the  season  lor  the  latter  liej^dns  when  that  lor  the  lornuT  ends, 
thou_L,di  helated  salmon  are  often  interniini(led  for  a  tim<'  in  the  same 
pools  with  the  lu'st coniers  amon^  the  sea  trout.  .\  ver\  hackward 
season,  or  a  dash  of  cold  storm  (  rossin^f  the  sinnnier,  as  it  sometimes 
does  in  those  ret^rions,  nia\  delay  th<  ir  a|)|)roach  to  thf  shore  for  a 
few  da)s,  hut  not  materially.  I'or  a  tinv  the\  hover  ahout  the  out 
lets  of  the  streams,  haunting  the  r<'els  and  passinj^r  out  anil  in  with 
th<'  el)I>  anri  (low,  s<'eminj,f  to  i^row  _t,rrailuaily  a(  (  ustomed  lo  the  fresh 
water,  till  a  hij^luT  tide  helps  to  lift  them  over  the  h.irs  and  atnonj^ 
the  rocky  passes  ol  the  rai)i<ls  that  ahound  in  the  smaller  rivers. 
Very  i^aiod  sport  may  he  had  for  a  tiui'-  in  takiiiL;  them  at  tlu; 
mouths  ol  thf  stn^ams,  Irom  tln'  lons^^  sand-spits  past  which  some  of 
th(;se  em|)t\,  or  the  slippery  ro(  ks  and  ja^'i^'ed  reefs  liarrin;,^  their 
dischar^'-.  At  the  distance  ol  a  (ar  cast  from  the  slu)re,  their  hai  k 
luis  show  pointin'4  al)o\e  the  surface  of  the  iniomiuL^  wateis,  whf)se 
hreadth  }^d\-es  Iri'e  space  lor  loni;  and  »'iLiorous  runs.  I  he  j^niides 
and  Indians  will  tell  you  —  and  experience  proves  them  to  l»e  ()uite 
in  the  ri^dil  —  that  the  run  ol  the  hsh  is  i^roverne<l  liy  the  moon,  and 
is  ^rreatest  when  she  is  hill  or  new.  At  those  periods  the)-  pursue; 
th(;ir  way  \\y  the  stream  in  larj^ir  numhers,  simply  hecaiise  thr- 
higher   tid<'s   then    prevailing;    aid   tlx^m  to  pass  the  hars  and    rapids. 


'I 


i 


li 


!  :■ 


■\ 


n\ 


512 


Srd-  Tt'out  /'is /ling. 


a  !.  ^1 


'"  t 


I'M 


m 


Your  guide's  statement  of  fact  is  correct,  while  he  errs,  as  many  a 
wiser  man  has  done,  in  attriinitinj^  the  effect  to  a  primary  instead  of 
a  secondary  cause. 

When  once  fairly  in  tiie  current  of  fresli  water,  their  movement 
up-stream  is  very  rapid.  Passionless  ami  almost  sexless  as  the 
mode  of  the  nuptials  they  are  on  their  way  to  com])lete  may  seem  to 
more  hijj^hly  orjj^anized  heinj^s,  the)-  drive  with  headlonj.,^  c:ai;erness 
throujrh  torrent  and  foam,  toward  the  shininj^  reaches  and  j^ravelly 
beds  far  up  the  river  where  thc;ir  >)va  are  to  he  depositt;d.  The 
females  come  first,  iiftervvard  the  maUs,  and  the  earliest  runs  of  the 
fish  always  contain  those  of  the  lar_i,^est  size.  I'"or  several  days  and 
ni<i;hts  they  continue  passing  swifti),  seldom  lyiny  many  hours  in  the 
same  pool,  never  taking'  a  backward  stroke;  then  all  at  once  there 
is  a  marked  break  in  their  streaminij  by,  and  the  first  run  has  gone 
on.  Another  one  soon  follows,  ami  they  |)ersevere  successively 
coming  past  till  late  in  Se|)tember,  or  even  into  October.  All  the 
fish  of  any  one  run  are  of  nearly  the  .same  weight,  and  they  continue 
decreasing  in  size  with  each  successi\'e  run,  until,  as  you  descend 
the  river,  only  an  occasional  straggler  over  one  or  one  and  a  half 
pounds  can  be  caught.  On  the  California  coast  they,  as  well  as  the 
salmon,  are  at  least  a  month  later  in  entering  the  river.s.  which  remain 
during  a  great  part  of  the  summer  too  shallow  aiul  tepid  to  afford 
them  a  safe  abode,  until  a  heavy  rain-fall  comes. 

These  crowding  refluent  ranks  are  but  a  small  proportion  of 
those  that  quitted  their  native'  streams  for  the  sea.  Thinned  as  the)' 
are  by  voracious  enemies  there,  and  decimateil  again  in  shallower 
waters  by  man's  destro)ing  cK-vices,  the  amazing  fecumlity  of  migra- 
tory fishes  barely  avails  to  maintain  the  annual  supply.  I'Vom  some 
coasts  these  fish  have  wholl)'  disappeared,  'ilu;  people  of  the  I'nited 
States  are  more  destructive  in  this  respect  than  any  other.  I'hey  man- 
age these  things  better  in  the  I  )ominion.  There,  the  imj)ortance  of  the 
fisheries  as  an  object  of  commerce  ami  a  source  of  food,  yielding  for 
these  interests  as  they  ilid,  for  instance,  in  1S75,  over  ten  and  a  half 
millions  of  dollars,  has  attracted  |(;gisl;.tive  protection,  through  meas- 
ures which  it  would  be  difficult  to  applv  generally  or  (efficiently  in 
our  e.xtended  and  democratic  country.  So  far  as  llu  authority  and 
resources  of  the  fish  commissioners  of  the;  different  States  extend, 
they  are  doing  useful  and  honorable  work  which  deserves  the  widest 


Sc'd  -  Trout  Fishing. 


513 


LON(;    SAIl.T    RAI'lllS. 


public  rt-cognition  and  support.  In  Canada,  all  salmon-brcedint; 
rivers  arc  leased,  inspected,  s^uarded,  and  yearly  reported  upon  !))• 
a  special  commissioner  in  the  I)e|)artment  of  Marine  and  I'isheries. 
Salmon  rivers  are  also  sea-trout  rivx'rs,  and  j^ood  sea-trout  fishinif 
can  only  he  obtained,  except  in  streams  too  insi^jnificant  to  be  worth 
preservinj^,  by  takinjr  either  a  lease  of  a  salmon  stream  or  a  Iic<;nse 
from  a  lessee  to  fish  one.  There  is  little  difficulty  in  making  the 
latter  arrangement,  both  l)ecause  the  seasons  for  the  two  varieties 
of  fish  are  not  concurrent  and  because  a  proprietor  is  only  too  glad 
to  be  aided  in  thinning  out  the  sea-trout,  which  are  very  destructive 
to  salmon  ova  and  fry. 

Along  the  course  of  the  St.  Lawrence  between  Ouebec  and  the 
island  of  .\nticosti  some  of  the  principal  affluents  on  its  north  shore 
are  the  Murray  Hay  River,  the  Black,  the  numerous  branches  of  the 
grand  and  far-reaching  Saguenay,  tht^  two  liergeronnes,  great  and 
little,  the  ICscoumaine,  the  Saut  de  Mouton,  the  I'ortnenf  th(!  .Saut 
au  Cochon,  the  Laval,  the  Betsiamites,  the  Ct)loml)ier,  th<'  River  aux 
Outardes,  the  (iodebout.  Trinity  River,  th«,'  i'entecost,  the  Romaine, 
the  Moisic,  and  the  Mingan.  Souk?  of  these  are  famous  salmon 
rivers,  held  on  long  leases  by  Canadians  or  by  our  own  countrymen. 
A  few   are   obstructed  at   the   outlet  or  not  far  above  it  by  dams, 


1 


!  1 9 


i 


W 


J I 


..) 


4 1 


m 


If 


I- 


\a\ 


514 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


11  \' 


'"  ^ 


afifordin_<r,  however,  certain  and  excellent  fishing  for  a  short  time  at 
their  mouths.  Others,  again,  do  not  bear  a  high  reputation  as  salmon 
rivers,  owing  to  their  having  been  either  neglected  or  over-fished. 
One,  the  Hetsiamite,  or  Hersimis,  is  reserved  for  the  use  of  the  In- 
dians. It  is  a  fine  river,  but  so  cruelly  fished,  netted,  speared,  and 
snared  by  its  reckless  proprietors  that  it  has  almost  ceased  to  rank 
as  a  salmon-breeding  water. 

Many  of  these  streams  will  long  remain  unvisited  e.xcept  by  the 
most  enterprising  anglers,  on  account  of  their  remoteness  from  the 
common  lines  of  travel  antl  the  forbidding  uninhabited  country  through 
which  the)-  flow.  The  easiest  access  is  still  by  the  way  of  Ouebec. 
As  far  as  the  village  of  Tadousac,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Saguena) ,  a 
daily  steam  line  runs.  Hut  here  all  usual  and  comfortable  ways  of 
transportation  end,  and  the  solitary  recesses  beyond  can  be  pene- 
trated only  b)  the  aid  of  country  carts  or  of  small  vessels.  Taking 
into  account  the  enforced  delays  of  preparation,  the  forlorn  condition 
of  beasts,  roads,  and  vehicles  upon  a  land  journey,  and  the  accidents 
of  winds,  waves,  and  fogs,  a  visitor  to  any  of  these  streams  is  hardly 
safe  in  counting  upon  less  than  seven  or  eight  days'  traveling  between 
it  and  New  York. 

Whatever  its  soft  Indian  name  may  mean  (if  it  be  not  rather 
Breton),  Tadousac  might  well  be  called  the  place  of  rest.  Within 
forty-eight  hours  from  New  York,  one  seems  transported  to  one  of 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  All  around  it  is  vast  and  lonely.  The  great 
river  stretches  glimmering  away  to  a  shore  seldom  faintly  seen. 
Behind,  bare  lofty  crags  shut  it  in,  treeless  and  silent.  A  huge 
promontory  bars  it  from  the  .Saguenay,  rolling  black  and  cold  as  if 
drained  from  the  eternal  chasms  of  polar  glaciers.  The  air  comes 
thin  and  pure,  the  light  falls  sharp  on  the  gray  brows  of  the  cliffs 
and  the  brown  sand  washed  up  by  the  bay.  Most  of  those  trim 
cottages  dro|)ped  among  the  rocks  belong  to  the  best  people  in  the 
province  of  Ouebec,  and  a  few  to  countrymen  of  our  own.  who  long 
ago  found  out  this  retreat  for  cool,  economical,  northern  lotus-eating. 
Such  traces  of  human  lift;  are  lost  like  dots  in  the  great  spaces.  The 
silence  is  broken  every  hour  by  a  restless  little  bell,  tinkling  from 
the  gable  of  the  oldest  church  on  th(.'  continent.  This  is  a  pocket- 
chapel,  that  could  be;  set  inside  a  town  drawing-room,  low-pitched, 
mossy,  and  winter-bitten,  dark  inside  with  two  hundred  years'  censer- 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


515 


EN    ROUTK. 


smoke — tlu;  homely  shrine  for  the  simple  faith  of  a  poor  and  kindly 
race.  The  hotel  is  everythinjr  that  our  sea-side  caravansaries  are 
not, — small,  neat,  (luiet,  with  the  host's  hand  for  ever)  wayfarer 
instead  of  being  against  him.  Its  neighborhood  to  the  Saguenay 
attracts  always  a  group  of  salmon-fishers,  read)-,  for  the  stranger's 
benefit,  with  courtesy,  information,  ami  news  from  the  streams. 
Everything,  indeed,  about  the  settlement  is  salmonoid.  A  short  walk 
along  the  sands  leads  to  a  cluster  of  habitaiis  houses  in  a  corner 
of  the  bay.  Here,  if  the  angler  has  taken  due  care  for  his  arrange- 
ments in  former  years,  his  guides  and  skipper  welcome  him,  and  his 
impcdi))icnta  for  the  month's  work  arc;  gathered.  David,  Cu'deon, 
Kdouard,  Pierre  Jaccjues,  I'^abian,  with  a  dozc-n  children,  I'rench  and 
Indian  mixture,  meet  him  with  heart)-  greeting.  Poor  Cvrille  is 
missing.  No  paddle  was  more  dett  than  his,  no  shot  for  a  seal  surer. 
Three  years  ago,  in  the  St.  John's,  a  treaclierous  whirlpool,  boiling 
up  at  the  foot  of  a  rajjid,  wrenched  the  canoe  out  of  his  grip  and 
sucked  him  with  it  to  the  bottom.  The  lot  of  thi'se  habitatis  is  mis- 
erably hard  and  poor.  The  stony  soil  grudges  a  little  grass  or  a 
handful   of  oats  and  potatoes.      They   make  the    rivers    their   farm, 


\ 


■I 

1    i  V 


n 


n\ 


111 


w\ 


1 ,  S't: 


■^  ;l, 


I 


H-;.:    ! 


516 


Sea -Trout  Fishing. 


shooting  seals  on  the  ice,  catching  fish  for  salting,  and  hunting  the 
porpoise.  They  are  all  wiry,  agile  fellows,  temperate,  docile,  and 
good-natured.  As  guides,  they  are  thoroughly  faithful  and  e.xpert, 
but  a  trifle  lazy  at  times,  and  slow  to  learn  anything  beyond  their 
range  of  habit.  Part  of  them  are  of  mixed  race,  part  pure  Canadian 
French,  with  a  trace  of  gentle  blood  now  and  then,  due  to  some 
irregular  noble  of  the  early  days.  Tadousac  being  the  terminus  a  (jiio, 
beyond  which  nothing  can  be  had,  the  traveler's  first  care  is  to 
examine  !iis  sporting  chattels,  accumulated  there  during  years,  and 
to  find  or  set  them  all  in  order.  If  rats  have  gnawed  the  canvas  of 
his  t(Mits,  or  the  bed-sacking  or  bags,  these  are  to  be  mended.  The 
winter  in  a  store-house  may  have  dealt  hardly  with  his  canoes,  that 
need  perhaps  bark  patches  or  a  thwart,  and  certainly  new  pitching. 
The     ■    kv.  ^  is  among  his  guide's  accomplishments,  should  the 

"batten-  u  :s'  •"  show  signs  of  wear.  Then  the  ehaloitpe  is  to 
be  inspected  as  siie  lies  aslant  above  low-tide  mark  on  the  sands — 
a  seven  '^'  eight  ton  Hghter-built  craft,  of  some  three  feet  draft,  one- 
masted,  with  ji.;^?rt-'r  ;  .  ""n.  and  stub  bowsprit.  Midships  is  a  hold 
for  ballast  and  cargo,  .  /r\\ ;  d  a  cabin  built  for  dwarfs  but  holding 
berths,  seats,  and  a  table,  and  astern  a  clear  space  for  handling 
sheets  and  helm,  large  enough  for  enjoyment  of  the  evening  pipe 
and  the  morning  doiic/ie.  All  at  last  overhauled  and  stowed,  the 
canoes  triced  up  outside  the  shrouds  and  the  special  case  of  stores 
sorted  for  the  cruise,  which  may  last  no  one  knows  how  long,  we  wait 
for  a  gende  south-west  and  the  first  of  the  ebb. 

Opposite  Tadousac,  the  St.  Lawrence  has  a  breadth  of  over  twenty 
miles.  Here  the  Saguenay,  storming  in,  conquers  the  greater  flood, 
as  the  Missouri  does  the  Mississippi,  and  deepens  the  grandeur  and 
wildness  of  its  scenery.  The  southern  bank  is  as  picturesque  and 
less  rugged,  but  along  the  widening  water  we  hug  the  northern 
shore,  seldom  stretching  across  far  enough  to  see  the  outlines  of  the 
other  break  into  distinct  masses.  Only  below  its  junction  with  the 
Saguenay  can  the  imperial  character  of  this  majestic  river  be  felt. 
Crossing  half  a  continent  to  meet  the  sea  half  way,  it  spreads  like  a 
sea  itself,  and  tosses  dangerous  waves  under  a  sudden  gale.  On  the 
north  it  washes  the  base  of  spurs  sent  out  by  the  great  Laurentian 
range,  whose  iron-bound  off-shoots  frown  down  over  the  whole 
lower  course  of  the  river,  retreating  at  points  for  a  few  miles,  and 


5.^ 


!    I 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


517 


opening  everywhere  amony^  their  recesses  great  breadths  of  a  clayey 
soil,  dotted  with  lakes,  and  channeled  by  rapid  rivers.  .Some  of  these 
are  fed  1)\-  large  sheets  of  water,  and  follov.'  a  course  of  over  a  liiin- 


CI.AY    BANK    AND    RAl'IDS. 

dred  miles,  while  others  run  for  less  than  a  thinl  that  distance. 
Long,  sandy  capias  jut  into  the  river,  and  rocky  islets  fringe  it,  but  for 
many  unbroken  leagues  of  its  tlow  it  laps  the  feet  of  the  savage  gray 
crags  or  chafes  around  granite  blocks  banded  witii  red  anil  purple. 
A  fisherman's  house  under  a  clift",  a  cluster  of  huts  or  a  light-house 
where  a  stream  pours  in,  and  a  single  great  saw-mill  and  lumber 
depot  are  the  only  iniiabited  spots  along  huntlretls  of  miles  in  its 
course.  The  voyager  making  a  jiort  from  curiosity  or  stress  of 
weather  gains  a  hearty  wekcinie,  giving  in  exchange  his  wi-ek-old 
news,  fresh  and  strange  to  his  hosts.  The  immense  expanse  of  the 
river,  notwithstantling  the  steady  commerc('  traversing  it,  is  lonely 
as  the  sea — and  often  tlays  pass  without  meeting  a  sail.  With  a 
fresh  south-west  ')reeze  such  as  often  pri'xails  in  August,  the  run 
has  been  made  from  Tadousac  to  the  destination  within  twelve 
hours.  Ofteiier,  sailing  with  the  morning  ebb  at  nine,  the  afternoon 
of  the  next  day  has  seen  us  at  camp.  ( )ne  mcIanchoK  diary 
records  four  nights  spent  aboanl  with  alternations  of  thick  fog  and 
baffling  nortii-easter ;  our  vessel,  after  a  tossing  struggle  of  endless 


llf 


'■■  ■  \ 


-id 


.,1   .: 


'|t 


ii  ■'!•- 


518 


Sea  -  7>(9///  Fis/ii/ig. 


1    '», 


l\    i 


.  t 


CI.IARING    lOK    A    lAMl' 


and  hopeless  tacks,  turning  tail  to  the  blast  each  evening  and 
bounding  back  for  miles  into  some  sheltered  cove  under  the  cliffs ; 
and  five  days  wasted  in  prematurely  using  up  the  stock  of  novels, 
counting  wild  ducks  cutting  the  mist,  listening  for  the  blow  of  the 
grampus  like  escape  steam,  —  o/do/s,  the  natives  call  him, — and 
watching  the  graceful  roll  of  the  white  porpoises.  After  making 
the  mouth  of  the  stream,  a  favoring  tide  must  be  waited  for,  to 
carry  our  craft  a  couple  of  miles  up  its  winding  channel,  in  search 
of  a  good  anchorage.  It  is  safer  to  retain  the  c  ha  loupe  during  all 
the  angler's  stay.  If  she  is  dismissed,  there  is  no  certainty  of  her 
arriving  again  within  a  week  of  the  appointed  day,  and  with  the 
possibility  of  illness  or  accident  in  these  solitudes,  —  though  these 
are  mishaps  the  sportsman  never  counts  on,  —  it  is  well  to  have  the 
means  of  immediate  return  at  hand.  Besides,  the  vessel  serves  as  a 
convenient  store-house,  to  be  visited  from  up-stream  for  fresh  sup- 
plies, and  for  relieving  the  camp  of  accumulating  fish.  Higher  than 
the  flow  of  the  tide  it  is  not  possible  to  carry  the  chaloupc,  and  about 


kl 


Sea  -  Trail t  Fishing. 


519 


this  point  she  is  moored  and  the  canoes  then  unlashed,  loaded  with 
the  tents  and  a  day's  rations,  and  headed  against  the  current  for  a 
six  miles  tuij  to  the  lower  camp. 

With  a  sweep  around  the  first  point  hidin_(,r  the  clialoiipc,  you.  take 
possession  of  the  wilderness,  or  rather  the  wilderness  of  you.  The 
sense  of  loneliness  descends  suddenly,  oppressively,  yet  with  a  charm. 
Stretched  along  the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  reclining  against  cushions 
ot  well-stuffed  canvas  sacks,  with  ].>ipe  alight,  the  quiet  movement, 
the  profound  stillness,  the  lifeless  asjiect  of  nature,  lull  you  into 
dreamy  delight.  The  river  is  not  picturesque,  in  the  usual  sense — 
its  beauty  is  a  stern  beauty  of  its  own.  For  some  distance  the  rocks 
stretch  along  the  bank,  alternating  with  precipitous  masses  of  clay, 
and  sinking  gradually  into  ranges  of  bowlders,  then  spreading  out 
in  pebbly  beaches,  where  the  first  murmur  of  the  rapids  touches  the 
ear  from  a  distance.  The  hills  are  clothed  with  tall  spruces,  here 
descending  rank  on  rank  to  the  ii^<^(i,  there  shattered  and  piled 
across  gaps  in  the  clay  ramparts.  Birches,  some  of  noble  height, 
are  intermixed,  and  at  the  rim  stout  alders  thrust  their  snaky 
branches  in.  At  some  points  the  shore  falls  level,  sweeping  l)ack 
for  a  tract  covered  with  bushes  and  such  forest  trees  as  the  climate 
spares.  Hut  the  pervading  effect  is  somber,  the  prevailing  color 
gloomy.  Grays  of  the  rocks,  bluish  browns  of  the  clay,  and  the 
mournful  hue  of  the  spruce  shadow  the  watt  -,  which  struggles  in 
vain  with  its  crisp  breaks  of  white  foam  to  brighten  their  reflections. 
Under  the  trees  the  color  of  the  stream  is  dull  olive,  paling  into 
brownish-)  ellow  in  the  open  reaches,  but  with  no  tone  of  the  brandy 
tint  that  often  stains  waters  flowing  from  spruce  forests.  While  the 
tide  holds,  the  rapids  are  drowned,  but  a  mile  or  two  up  they  begin 
to  show  their  teeth  and  sound  their  dash.  Shifting  the  paddle  for 
the  .setting-pole,  we  work  through  the  first  of  these,  and  glide  into 
a  still  stretch  of  deep  water  covering  great  scattered  rocks.  In  such 
pools  salmon  lie  on  their  way  up,  but  the  trout  prefer  smaller  and 
less  smooth  ones.  From  the  break  of  the  current  among  the  surface 
rocks  it  can  easily  be  seen  what  the  height  of  the  water  in  the  river 
is, —  whether  the  stream  is  so  shrunkf-n  as  to  need  tediously  careful 
treatment,  or  so  swollen  that  the  turbid  wave  cheats  both  fish  and 
fisher,  or  at  that  happy,  just  medium  in  which  the  latter  will  go  most 
safely  and  the  former  most  in  danger.    The  guide  slackens  his  stroke 


I 

I! 


I 


Am 


if 


i 


'  V!  .    I 


520 


Sea  -  TroKt  Fis/iiug. 


m: 


■i 


'■'•  \ 


now  and  then,  peerinj^  over  the  side  to  catch  a  jjjlimpse  of  trout 
flittinjr  like  a  shade  throuj^h  thi'  depths  if  they  have  yet  he^nin 
thi'ir  \vanderinj,r  up,  and  often  is  al)Ie  to  say  that  they  are  niovinij 
in  nunil)ers — as  often  says  it  wht-n  none  are  seen.  In  his  trood- 
nature  ami  eaj^erness  to  make  it  [)leasant,  this  dear  j^uide  sees 
many  things  that  are  invisible,  counts  much  more  j;ame  than  is 
cautjht,  and  never  permits  the  puniest  trout  to  he  hookeil  without 
shoutiu!:;'  "{/iic/  saioiioii  /  "  Now  and  then  whirlinjr  arounil  a  point, 
the  river  races  ilown  on  us  with  the  fierceness  of  a  torrent,  tossintj  in 
wavtts  aloni;"  a  clay  escarpment  towerint;  fifty  feel,  which  it  has  cut 
down  s(|uare  and  sheer  as  if  with  a  razor.  The  rocks  and  pebbles 
are  all  shot  off  to  the  other  bank,  where  the  passen_<jer  may  walk 
aiul  wade  while  David  gives  the  canot;  rope,  and  plashes  as  he  tows 
her  alongside  in  the  shallows.  It  is  usual  to  refrain  from  casting  the 
line  on  the  way  up,  not  only  for  the  sake  of  avoiding  tlelays  — but, 
since  the  camp  looks  down  on  the  choicest  pool  in  all  the  river,  why 
take  the  edge  from  the  rapture  of  landing  the  best  the  first?  As  we 
ascend,  the  rapids  grow  more  frecpient — twenty  have  been  counted 
from  tide  to  camp,  and  all  the  numl)er  not  told.  More  level  spaces 
and  denser  trees  succeed,  the  channel  breaks  up  in  places  with  islets 
of  rock  ;  and  at  last,  rounding  a  curve,  one  of  these  lifts  its  feathery 
point  of  willows,  David  reverses  his  pole  to  hush  the  clang  of  the 
iron  shoe  on  the  stones,  a  few  strong  thrusts  force  the  l)oat  up  against 
the  rush  of  the  narrowing  outlet,  and  she  touches  the  bank  at  the 
foot  of  the  Homer  Pool.  Before  anything  is  unloaded,  the  angler 
springs  out,  rigs  a  cast,  and  hurrying  to  the  head  of  the  pool,  drops 
his  first  fly.  That  moment  is  crowded  with  the  expectation  of  the 
whole  past  year.  Two  of  us  once  .so  landed  and  so  stood,  and  four 
large  fish  for  each  were  raised  and  netted  before  the  nu-n  had  cleared 
the  canoes  of  their  load.  Hut  that  year  there  was  much  grass  in  the 
place,  and  the  multitudes  of  mosquito*  s  .sat  on  it,  being  in  number 
about  a  million,  each  having  also  compressed  twelve  months'  expec- 
tation into  that  moment.  The  thirst  for  blood  on  our  side  was  soon 
satisfied,  while  the  insects,  far  from  taking  off  their  keen  edge,  grew 
industrious  in  putting  it  on. 

At  this  point,  the  stream,  spreading  out  to  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  width,  wheels  to  the  right,  striking  a  turtle-shaped  rock  nearly 
flush  with  the  surface  which  splits  it  in  two,  hollowing  on   the  near 


Sea  -  Trout  lushing. 


521 


Till'      lUrMI.     1  AMI'. 


silk'  ;i  deep  pool,  the  hreaclth  of  a  fair  cast,  and  some  sixty  feet  lon_<,f. 
The  farther  sick;  of  this  depression  is  a  sht^lvinj^  wall,  full  of  crevices 
and  nooks,  and  the  camp  si(k;  a  _!:,'-rassy  l)ank  four  or  five  feet  hit,di, 
frinjred  at  either  entl  with  hushes,  into  the  pool,  al)ove  the  turn, 
dashc;s  a  pretty  run  of  swift  water,  three  feet  deep,  with  excellent 
wadinir  i^round.  This  littk;  promontor)-  is  the  only  ck-anxl  spot  on 
the  stream.  The  trees  were  killed  more  than  twenty  years  aj^o  by 
an  KnjfHsh  haronc^t,  who  encampeil  with  a  retinue  on  this  plateau, 
and  has  left  tratlitions  of  famous  s|)ort.  llis  forest  lodm;  was  chosen 
with  th(;  eye  of  a  Nimrod,  whose  other  eye  must  have  been  a  land- 
scape painte-r's.  This  basin  is  ver\  seldom  em|)ty  of  trout.  Last 
season,  i-leven  fish  weij^hini^'  seventei.-n  pountls  wvxc  taken  from  it 
within  an  hour  before  breakfast  1)\-  one  nnl,  and  the  whole  yield 
of  the  pool  during  the;  four  days  for  which  it  was  v(;xed  only  with  a 
few  casts  at  mornino-  and  evening"  was  sevent\-two  fish. 

.\  description  of  the  |)eculiarities  of  a  lodu^c'  in  this  vast  wilder- 
ness, and  of  the  obstacles  to  penetratin*;"  it  and  the  devices  k)r  sur- 
mounting;' thiMii,  will  |)robaI)ly  imt  interest  woodsuK-n,  who  an;  familiar 
with  them  all.  Hut  the  jjrcater  |)art  of  readers  have  rather  va^iui 
notions  of  a  camp,  a  canoe,  or  a  rapiil  ;  and  to  thcMU  a  rouirh  sketch 
of  thesi-  features  of  a  life  in  the  woods  may  be  intert:stin_y'. 

We  "  build  our  li<rht  town  of  canvas"  with  the;  precision  o<' Roman 
canip-[)itchinL;;.      Removed  from  the  bank  .so  far  that  no  backward- 


( 


i:ifl 


III 


it; 


i^i  If 


\i,\ 


I'J 


m 

I'm- 

r!'!  '■ 

iiii)^ 


li  'f 


i=    u 


K 


( .. 


^'-li 


522 


Scii-'Innit  J ''is /ling. 


s.iilinj^f  fly  may  be  arrestetl  hy  its  rcxjf,  one  wall-U.-nt  rises  near  the 
shelter  of  tiie  siinibs,  aiitl  another  opposite,  if  tiu-  party  consists  of 
two  or  more  pi;rsons.  Between  them  are  pianteii  tlie  tai)le  anil  chairs, 
which  were  sketchetl  out  rather  than  finisheil  hy  rouj^h  carpentr\-  of 
adze  and  aiiijer  many  summers  ago  anil  have  wintered  often  in  these 
thickets.  I'arther  hack,  at  the  edge  of  the  trees,  stands  an  A  tiMit 
for  the  men,  and  another  to  cover  the  provisions,  with  a  space  for 
the  camp-fire  between.  Such  a  canvas  house,  with  its  outside-  fly 
stretched  over,  gives  perfect  shelter  from  heavy  rains,  and  has 
nothing  to  fear  e.xcept  from  sudden  gusts  that  may  rip  out  the  tent- 
pins.  Its  inside  furnishing  is  simple  hut  complete.  I'irst,  the  bedstead 
demands  the  attention  due  to  arrangements  for  inviting  tired  nature's 
sweet  restorer  during  nine  good  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four.  Vour 
stout  crotches,  kept  apart  by  cross-pieces,  and  sunk  deep  in  the 
ground,  lift,  at  a  height  of  two  feet  above  it,  two  poles  run  through 
the  l)road  hems  of  a  canvas  sacking,  which  may  be  double  and 
stuffed  with  hemlock  twigs.  'Ihey  give  a  springy  support  to  buf- 
falo robes  and  blankets.  The  upper  one  of  these  is  to  be  doubled 
down  its  length,  and  a  wide  sheet,  folded  in  the  same  way,  laid 
between.  An  air-pillow  and  pillow-case  complete  a  bed  as  trim 
as  any  ever  spread  by  a  neat-handed  Hibernian  Phillis.  On  the 
other  side  of  the  tent  a  neat  wardrobe,  with  ample  ventilation,  is 
built  up  with  similar  rods  on  taller  crotches.  The  dress  needed  is  of 
thick  woolen  throughout,  though  at  some  noon  hours  in  the  brief 
intense  summer  of  that  region  light  clothes  are  comfortable.  A  few 
nights  of  last  season  were  too  hot  for  sleep — a  rare  experience. 
The  mercury  ranges  usually  between  40°  and  74^,  but  toward  the 
end  of  .August,  and  especially  while  aboard  ship,  the  air  is  constantly 
chilly.  Ne.xt,  a  sideboard  rises  against  the  rear  tent-pole,  piled  up 
of  empty  boxes,  the  upper  one  of  which  holds  the  library, — pegs 
being  set  in  the  pole  for  thermometer,  spring-balance,  and  looking- 
glass,  if  you  will.  The  wine-cellar  and  spirit-vault  are  established 
outside  the  tent,  under  the  fly.  Add  a  block  candlestick,  strew  the 
ground  thickly  with  sapiii  covered  by  an  India-rubber  cloth  for 
carpet,  and  one  is  better  lodged  than  many  a  tenant  of  a  log-cabin. 
Next  day  after  arriving,  the  guides  go  down  again  with  all  the 
canoes  to  bring  a  fortnight's  stores  from  the  citaloupc.  This  burden 
loads  their  light  craft  so  deep  that  care  and  skill  are  needed  to  twist 


Scd-  lyoitt  I '  is  hi II g. 


523 


throiijrli  tlu;  rapids;  and  il  will  l)c  late  in  the  afternoon  helbrc  the 
riniLi  of  their  iron-shod  poles  against  the  stones,  luanl  in  iiuuisured 
cadence  half  a  mile  off,  ^nves  the  sij,nial  of  their  return. 

The  tinu;  of  their  ahsence  may  he  improved  to  review  tackle  and 
perfect  it  for  sirioiis  work.  The  prudent  angler  will  take;  at  hast 
three  rods.  Two  of  tlu;se  should  not  he  very  li^dit,  for  they  may  he 
called  on,  as  has  happened,  to  liandle  a  salmon.  In  ans  casi-,  the 
fish  art;  so  pU-ntiful  that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  waste  tiim-  over  the 
smaller  ones,  and  the  most  useful  rod  is  one  stiff  enouijh  to  -irjl)  a 
pound  trout,  and  hrin^  him  promptly  to  net.  A  duplicate  reel  and 
line  art!,  of  course-,  provided.  As  to  (lies,  the  indifference  of  sea-trout 
about  kind,  when  they  are  in  tlu;  humor  to  take  an)',  almost  warrants 
the  belief  of  some  an_i,diTs  that  they  leap  in  mere  sport  at  whatever 
chances  to  be  floatinif.  It  is  true  they  will  take  increilibU;  combina- 
tions, as  if  color-blind  and  blind  to  form.  Mut  e.xperinuMits  on  their 
caprice  are  not  safe.  If  their  desire  is  to  be  tempted,  that  ma)'  most 
surely  be  done  with  three  insects,  adapted  to  projier  places  and 
seasons.  One  need  not  j^^o  beyond  the  ranj^^e  of  a  red-bodiiil  Hy 
with  blue  tip  and  wood-duck  winj^s  for  ordinary  use,  a  s.nall  all-JLjjray 
fly  for  low  water  in  bri^dit  li<,dit,  ami  a  yellowish  fly,  jj;reen-striped 
and  winj^ed  with  curlew  feather,  for  a  fine  cast  uniler  alders  after  the 
patriarchs.  By  all  means  make  your  ow  n  flies,  or  learn  to  do  so, 
for  the  sake  of  practicing  a  delicate  art  and  amusinjf  some  idle  hours 
on  the  stream,  iiesides,  one's  own  handiwork  is  stronger  than  that 
of  most  shops,  and  with  a  pocket-book  full  of  material,  it  will  be  easy 
to  replace  a  loss,  by  no  nieans  infrequent,  caused  by  the  tipping  of  a 
canoe. 

Wading  drawers  of  India-rubber,  reaching  well  above;  tlu;  waist, 
are  indispensable  ;  and  the  foot  that  is  shod  with  anything  but  a 
nail-studded  sole  will  surely  bring  its  wearer  to  great  grief  wh(;n  it 
touches  the  treacherous  clay.  Much  of  the  bottom  is  of  this  greasy 
stuff,  looking  like  stone,  but  as  slippery  as  glass,  and  unsafe  for  any 
foot-gear  whatever.  In  some  runs,  the  river-bed  is  pebblv,  but 
usually  strewed  with  large  stones,  and  the  current  is  so  swift  as  to 
render  a  knee-deep  stand  unsteady. 

The  day's  work  in  camp  follows  quite  a  regular  routine.  About 
six,  the  light  wakes  you  —  the  guide  never  will.  A  dip  in  the  pool 
or  a  bucket  dash  at  the  brink  tones  the  nerves  for  a  firm  touch  of  the 


\ 


u 


4 
111 


!=:^i 


1    •■.  m 


If  ' 


I 


f 


5:11  ,'Mi 


.    '     >. 


If 


524 


Sca-Tvout  Fishing. 


rod,  while  the  reel  sings  its  morning  song  over  a  brace  of  fish  caught 
for  breakfast,  which  the  cook-guide  is  preparing.  This  need  be 
nothing  more  substantial  than  ham  and  eggs,  of  which  a  week's 
supply  can  i)e  kept  (unless,  indeed,  a  fondii  is  prepared,  which  the 
guide  can  be  taught  to  compose  very  well),  fish-balls,— and  David 
is  an  adept  at  these, — the  trout,  broiled  on  a  wire  gridiron,  buttered 
toast  or  Boston  crackers  grilled,  and  marmalade,  with  tea  or  coffee. 
I'Or  a  change,  a  partritlge-chick  can  now  and  then  be  knocked  over, 
or  a  s(|uirrel  or  rabbit  tried.  After  that  comes  the  clicf-ifa'itvi\'  of 
our  wood-cook — crepes  !  These  are  thin  rice  cakes,  fried  crisp  in  a 
pan,  and  eaten  with  maple  sugar.  Do  not  grudge  the  men  a  good 
hour  over  their  own  breakfast.  This  month  is  sunshine  in  their  dull 
year,  and  such  plain  fare  sybaritic  to  them.  And  a  pipe  in  this  air, 
lit  with  a  wood  c;mber,  is  so  doubly  delicious  that  it  neeils  no  patience 
to  jirolong  it  awhile.  About  nine,  the  canoe  floats  off  bearing  you 
sitting  flat  in  the  bottom,  and  the  guide  u[)right  astern,  either  to  the 
lower  pools  to  fish  from  the  l)oat,  or  to  the  upper  water  where  land- 
ing and  wading  are  more  convenient.  The  fish  will  rise;  at  almost 
any  hour  of  the  day,  and  in  an\-  weather, — rather  more  languidly 
from  noon  till  three,  under  l^right  sky  ;  rather  more  actively  at  early 
morniniT  and  after  four.  Where  the  water  has  oathereil  smoothni^ss 
again  after  passing  a  rapid,  it  begins  to  deepen  and  converge  to  a 
point.  Just  there,  in  ten  or  fifteen  feet  depth,  among  the  rocks 
forming  a  sort  of  dam,  where  the  outlet  of  the  pool  breaks  over  in  a 
glassy  curve,  the  large  trout  love  to  lie,  watching  for  insects  swept 
down.  Your  fly  follows  the  swirl,  swimming  swifter,  till,  just  as  it 
nears  the  rock  at  the  very  cleft  of  the  fall,  there  is  a  surge,  a  tug,  and 
the  fish  darts  up-stream.  The  large  ones  seldom  break  the  surface. 
Turn  the  rod  at  once  with  the  reel  uppermost,  and  do  not  check  him 
till  he  tries  to  move  down  again,  and  then  only  gently.  If  he  can 
be  helil  away  from  the  brink, — and  it  is  not  often,  with  care,  that  he 
slips  over  it, — from  four  to  seven  minutes  should  sufiice  to  bring  him 
to  net ;  though  if  he  be  fresh  run  from  tide  and  over  three  pounds, 
twice  that  time  may  be  needed.  It  is  well  to  search  the  neighbor- 
hood of  the  bushes,  too,  before  descending  more  than  half-way  down 
the  pool,  or  of  any  great  rocks  scatteretl  on  the  bottom. 

While  the  fisherman  is  busy,  the  guide  left   at  home  has  been 
cleaning  and  curing  the  catch  of  the  day  before.    No  fish  are  wasted. 


Sea  -  Trout  FisJiiiig. 


525 


(JliTTINi;    READY    FOR    HREAKFAST. 


Coarse  salt  and  barrels  always  make  part  of  the  chaloiipcs  freig^ht, 
and  the  trout  not  eaten  are  packeil  and  carried  to  Tadousac,  as  an 
important  and  welcome  addition  to  the  winter's  stores  for  these  poor 
fellows'  families.  When  a  lary^er  trout  than  usual  is  netted,  he  is 
greeted  with  the  cry.  "C'^'.sV  boii  pour  Ic  baril."  The  return  from 
the  chase  must  be  so  timed  that  the  rapids  may  be  passed  before 
dark.  Immediately  on  lantlint^-.  every  fish  caught  is  faithfully 
weighed  (none  being  small  enough  to  reject)  and  enteretl  on  the 
score.  Usually,  dinner  is  at  six,  the  morning's  carte  being  varied 
only  with  one  of  three  or  four  kinds  of  preserved  soup,  baked  or 
fried  potatoes,  boiled  rice,  sherry  and  Bordeaux,  cheese,  raisins, 
coft'ee,  and  a  cliasse.  If  you  ask  the  best  way  of  cooking  the  fish  — 
those  over  two  pounds  weight  deserve  the  pot;  the  flavor  and  juices 
of  smaller  ones  above  a  pound  will  be  kept  unwasted  by  roasting 
them  under  the  coals;  and  as  to  those  below  a  pound,  since  in  this 
region  not  .St.  .Anthony,  but  probably  St.  Lawrence,  is  their  patron, 
let  them  follow  his  fate  and  grill  on  thi'  gridiroi.  None  arc-  small 
enough  to  spoil  by  frying;  but  our  cordon,  with  a  little  superintend- 
ence, is  cpiite  equal  to  a  stew  in  claret.  .After  ilinner,  xVv.  plateau  is 
large  enough  for  a  quarter-deck  pron^enade  of  thirty  steps  to  and 
fro,  till,  finishing  the  second  cigar,  you  look  up  about  nine  to  see  the 


1  '' 


i 


.i : 
■  t  \ 


'      \ 


■\VA 


\   \: 


1)1 


'•  i\ 


526 


Scd -'/)'()///  /•'is/ling. 


I 


'  ■  t 


W 


n 

i 

I. 

I 
^1 


3 

I' ji 


.  »' 


H' 


I    I 


\\ 


!l 


"■^♦lnwslt^:.^.^, 


twilii^lit,  and  rail  I  )aviil  to  inaUc  a  "smmlt;('" 
insidr  tin-  canvas  thai  may  conipKlrh  clear 
it  t)t  nios<|uiti)c.s,  and  to  tic  down  tlic  tlajis,  sluittins^  yt'ii  in  lor  the 
nij;lu.  On  Snmlays,  tin-  stn-ani  runs  iindislurht'd.  Kcadinj;,  jour- 
nalizing, anil  rc|)airs  o{  many  kinds  fill  tiic  timi-.  Last  summer,  tlie 
C'lovi'rnim-nt  jruardian,  an  old  aciiuaiiUance,  chanced  to  arrive  on 
Satm-ila\-  niylu,  ami  cam|)i'tl  near  us, — perhaps  neeilli:ssly  sus])icious 
ot  a  breach  of  Sunilay  dose-time. 

I  lis  business  at  tliis  se;ison  was  to  examine:  and  clear  the  port- 
aj^cs,  st'veral  of  which  are  bla/ed  aU)ni;  the  rixcr-side  at  points  made 
impassable  lor  canoes  b\-  tin-  roui;hness  or  suilden  lall  ol  the  rapids. 
I'he  rapids  var\-  ^reatl\-  as  to  de|)th,  height,  and  length.  Some 
covt'r  a  roil  ot  sliohiK  broken  water  wit'i  small  stones;  some  race 
tor  a  (juaiter  o(  a  mile  in  surm's  over  cla\'  bottom,  scoopi'd  and 
bi'aten  as  hard  as  rock,  while  others  toss  and  dash  on  a  sharp  de- 
sci-nt  lor  twice  that  space  out  and  in  amoni;  a  ma/t'  «)r  i^raniti'  bowl 
ilers.  I'p  and  down  these  last,  and  around  some  sleep  falls,  the 
canoe  must,  of  course,  be  coa.xed  with  a  line,  the  !:;uide  either  wading 
and  sleatlyins^'  her  ov  slumbliiii;-  alon>.;side  .ishore.  Running  a  rapiil 
is  really  pilotinj^',  for  the  natural  fall,  the  lay  of  the  rocks,  and  the  best 
watt-r  between  them,  remain  alwavs  lu-arly  the  sami-.  Many  a  jaj^s^ed 
old  sunken  lump  or  bowlder-heail  just  above  the  surface,  worn  i^lassy 
smooth,  with  Ioiil;  weeils  streamini;  like  hair  from  it,  looks  familiar 
to  the  an>;icr  year  after  year.      Most  of  the  rapids  may  be  waded 


»;^'     I 


i.^■■^ 


Sc(i-7'rotif  lushing.  527 

across  at  \vx\  low  water,  Imt  with  ^ 
i:onsi(lfral)lc  risk,  011  accoiiiU  ol  tin: 
irrcLjiilar,  slippery  loolliold  and  {.\\v. 
ti-ariiii^  ciirn'iit.  I'lie  ascent  or  de- 
scent ol  a  rapiti  is  excilinj^,  e\cri  witii- 
oiit  llie  trille  ol  danj^cr  it  i)riiiiL;s. 
1  he  whisperinu;  ripple  ol  the  water 
deepens  into  an  anj^rs  rush  as  yon 
approach.  At  the  head  or  loot  the 
pitch  looks  nuich  shar|)er  than  it 
reall)  i^,  the  e\i'  takini;  in  the  lore 
shortened  »inclin<'.  Mown  aniono 
crowded  clusters  ol  rocks,  now  seen, 
now  swept  luider,  the  llood  comes 
hounilini;,  coiling,  and  shattered. 
luH.-ry  epilliet  in  .Soulhe\'s  particu- 
larl\'  loolish  piece  of  nurser\  drivi  I, 
the  "C'at.iract  ol  i.odore,"  niiL;ht  fuid 
rcalitN  and  echo  here. 

In  this  sort  of  siuM,  h.ilf  stone,  hall' 
water,  a  coninion  wooden  lio.it  would 
he  humped  to  pieces  in  live  minutes. 
I'he  onl\  ihini;  th.it  can  lloal  in 
it,  the  Kirch  canoe,  is  oni'  o|  those 
niar\('ls  ofcleNcr  adaptation  th.il  look 
like  genius.  Such  a  canoe  is  rt.-ally  f- 
nothing  hut  a  hasket  with  pointed 
ends  and  stiltened  sides.  \  ou  sit, 
tloal,  and  to'-s  in  her  as  \()u  wouM  in 
a  hasket,  and  without  most  watchlul 
perpendicularitN  and  tiri'some  ti'usion 
of  nerves  in  halance,  \i)u  lip  out  ol 
her  as  \(iu  woulij  out  ol  a  hasket. 
She  is  a  mere  simple  skin  ol  hark 
sewed       toi^ether      with       deer   sinews,  I  AIM. I  IN.; 

rimmed  with  slight  asli  or  iiiich  strips  ami  connei  teil  across  at  top 
hy  live  slend<'r  thwarts,  or  'd)ords,"  modeled  in  all  her  lines  so  that 
the  dee|)est  point  is  aloiiu;  the   mi<ldle   i)ottom,  and   she   turns   in   the 


II  ' 


II 


I 


i  '1  ^ 

■'1 

!' '    if 

'  1' 

i       '  ■ 

M  ih- '  '      ' 

ill  ^'h 

,q!';. 


W  ■ 

f  H 

!i;|h 

!l 


528 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


water  every  way  as  on  a  jjivot.     The  draught,  witli  two  men  aboard, 
is    three    to    lour    inches.      Huoyant,  of  elastic    frame,   unsteady  to 
the  lightest    touch,   endways   or   sideways,   she    answers    to    skillful 
control  like  a  sentient  thing,  and  throws  a  clumsy  rider  like  a  mus- 
tang.   With  her  light  grace  and  delicate  color,  she  is  the  lady  of  water- 
craft.      I'he  skill   of  these  canoe-men  is  womlerful,  only  gained  by 
long  practice  from  early  chiklhood.      Nearing  the  foot  of  the  rapid, 
while  yet  in  still  water,  th(,'  guide  ilroiis  the  paddle,  stands  erect  with 
his  setting-pole  in   the  extreme  stern,  his  boy  in   the  same  attitude 
at  the  point  of  the  bow,  and  stuilies  the  eddies  and  stones  intently. 
In  a  moment  she  is  swung  alongsiile  a  rock,  her  peak   thrust  just 
around  it  across  tin?  stream;  then,  with  a  mighty  drive  frojn  the  poles, 
she  darts  diagonally  through  \\\v.  torrent  and  whirls  her  tail  down- 
stream, under  the  lee  of  another  rock  a  few  feet  higher  up.      She  is 
again  hekl,  hugging  the  granite  by  main  force,  and  edging  forward  till 
the  beat  of  the  water  boiling  up  astern  of  her  center  helps  to  Mft  her 
on,  and  with  another  powerful  send  she  shoots  across  upward  again  to 
the  next  covering  point.     She  threat's  her  intricate  way  among  the 
bowlders  by  repetition  of  these  zigzag  dashes,  sometimes  missing  the 
aim  and  crashing  back  against  a  rock,  sometimes  beaten  aside  by  the 
pole  slipping  on  the  bottom,  with  the  guide's  eye  quick  at  every  turn, 
and   his  muscles    steadily   braced.     The  men's    pose,   alertness,   and 
strength  form  a  study.    At  times  she  nnust  be  thrust  up  by  sheer  power 
against  the  dead  rush  of  the  torrent,  gaining  inch  by  inch.      David's 
cries  to  his  boy  rise  above  the  noise  of  the  water — "  /\)iissc.'  arrctc! 
lame  rcaii!  fia/c  rcaii!  autre  boni !  ponsse,  poiissc  an  loiu!"     Acci- 
dents occur,  but  seldom  from  miscalculation.      If  a  pole  should  snap 
while  the  stress  of  the  flood  beats  on  her,  the  canoe  may  be  whirled 
broadside  on,  and  capsized.     Then  there  is  a  rolling  and  tumbling 
among  the  rocks,  struggling  for  a  footing,  sometimes  with  hard  bruises, 
—  or  if  near  the  foot  of  the  rapid,  one  may  be  swept  into  deep  water 
ami  must  keep  a  clutch  on  the  point  of  the  canoe  till  she  drifts  into 
shallows,      b'xcept  in  the  larger  rivers,  there  is  not  much  danger  of 
drowning.      The  guides  prefer  ascending  to  going  down  a  rapid,  as 
the  risk  of  the  canoe  getting  lieyond  their  control  is  much  less  when 
the  water  drives  against  her  in  sight.     They  are  very  cautious,  too, 
to  avoid  straining  or  bruising  the  boat.     "You  act  as  if  this  canoe  be- 
longed to  you,"  David  would  reproach  his  boy  at  a  careless  movement. 


Sea-  Tmut  I'^isliiug. 


529 


Well  haiicllecl,  a  j^ood  birch  may  last  for  four  yt^ars ;  or  she;  may 
be  ban.Ljecl  into  iiselessness  by  an  inexpert  in  one  season  of  low  water. 
The  red  bark  is  stouter  and  more  durable  than  the  smoother  yellow. 


/rt)      1 11 .'ii,  I 


Two   years  aj^o,    fires 

ravaireil      the       birch 

woods  about  the  upper 

Sa_i;uenay,  where  much 

of  the  material   is   obtainetl,  anil   forced 

the  Indians  to  seek  their  bark  at  great  distances,  increasing  the  price 

of  their  work.      A  new  canoe  of  the  size  used  in  thest;  streams  costs 

with  ecpiipment  from  (Mghteen  to   twent\-two   dollars.       Tlu^se   are 

eighteen   feet  U)ng.  three  and  a  (piarter   across,   anil    fiftinn    inches 

deep,  weighing  about  forty  pounds.     They  are   Montaignic  canoes, 

built  by  Indians  of  the  north  shore.       The  larger  ones,  used  in  the 

St.  John's  and  the  gri;ater  rivers,  will  carry  nine  men    or  a  freight 

of  nearly  a  ton.     The\-  arc;  mack;  by  the  Micmacs  of  the  south  shore, 

and  have  higher  peaks  and  flatter  bottoms,  with   less  roll   than  the 

former. 

.\fter  eight  or  ten  days  spent  at  the  home  camp,  all  the  pools 
within  range  having  been  several  times  whipped  over,  and  the  run 
of  large  trout  sensibly  slackens.  At  a  point  seven  miles  higher 
u|)  (measured  through  its  crooks),  the  river  rests,  after  its  earlier 
wanderings  for  seventy  miles  through  untrodden  forests,  and  ex- 
pands into  a  basin,  between  two  and  three  miles  across  in  either 
direction,  deep  set  among  craggy  hills.  Through  this  lake,  and  to 
the  far  regions  beyond,  all  the  fish,  salmon  and  trout,  pursue  their 
pilgrimage.     Just  opposite  the  home   camp  a  well-marked  |)ortage 


i 


I 


1!  k' 


:i",tHfl 


.(',  1 


'•'i 


fi 

,  iTlJ 

r 

H 

m 


St    H 


i-hi-: 


ill  I! 


:,   i 


«■'''■ 

if  =^      s 

H  0  ■  (.' 

wi'  ■ } 

i     i\   \' 

R      1  j-   §    • ;                           I 

Wt       H'  F"    '* 

1         f 

"  ^       :  1 

R         '^ 

1 

- 

\m''i 


i[ ' 


530 


5tv/  -  Tyof/f  Fishing. 


opens,  cutting  off  the  bends,  and  bearing  straiglit  over  a  mountain 
and  through  dense  woods  to  the  lake  by  a  rough  course  of  three 
miles.     Sunday,  a  leisure-day,  is  usually  chosen   for  this  march,  and 

most  of  the  hours  of  it  are  required 

to  make  the  carry  and  settle  the  new 

camp.     At  one    trip,    tlie  men    carry 

over   tents    and    a    week's    provision, 

returning  to  bring  the    canoes    on  a 

second.     .Sixty  or  sevent)-  pounds  for 

each    makes    u|)    a  load,   and 

,'ith  this  settled  com- 

shoul- 


MAKING    A    PORTAGE. 


ders,  and 

by  a  broati  strap 
passing  over  the 
forehead,  so  as  to 
leave  the  arms  cjuite  free, 
they  climb  the  steep  hill- 
crest,  often  cutting  steps 
in  the  wet  clay,  and  press 
through  the  woods  at  a  quick  gait,  making  the  distance  within  two 
hours.  Portaging  the  canoes  is  much  more  difficult  and  delicate  work. 
They  are  turned  over,  hoisted  on  the  head,  and  carried  poised  with 
the  two  hands  at  the  edges,  a  little  forward  of  the  middle,  giving  the 
bearer  at  a  distance  among  the  trees  the  look  of  an  ungainly  two- 
legged  elephant.  For  a  time,  a.\e  and  knife  must  be  depended  on 
for  tools,  sapiti  for  beds,  and  birch-bark  for  furniture.  As  we  go  on, 
the  thicket  grows  denser  and  the  solitude  deepens.  Very  little  animal 
life  disturbs  it.  A  few  squirrels,  and  a  partridge  with  her  brood  will 
chirp  and  flutter  ;  at  the  lake,  we  shall  see  swooping  fish-hawks  and 
hear  the  kingfisher's  metallic  cry.    Occasionally,  in  these  woods,  as  on 


i'-;. 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


531 


the  stream,  a  fresh  bear's  track  is  crossed,  but  the  silence  here  is  sel- 
dom broken  except  by  the  ceaseless  iinder-son^r  of  the  moscjuito's  hum — 

"  The  horns  of  KlHanil  faintly  blowing." 

This  minim  of  insects  must  have  a  word.  Since  fishing  began, 
he  and  his  stinging  kin  have  been  the  angler's  pest.  Herodotus 
thinks  him  worthy  of  mention  and  describes  the  Egyptians'  device  for 
protection  against  him, — that  of  spreading  a  net  over  a  shaded  cleft 
in  the  rocks,  through  the  meshes  of  which  he  will  not  pass  unless 
the  sun  shines  in.  The  Sicilian  fisherman  of  to-day  contrives  pre- 
cisely the  same  refuge  from  his  attack.  But  after  the  e.xperience 
of  many  years  on  many  streams,  the  assertion  is  confidently  made, 
that  all  mas(iuerading  in  veils,  helmets,  goggles,  and  capes,  brings 
mere  vexation  and  impediment,  and  that  the  most  effective  and  least 
troublesome  protection  is  gained  by  rubbing  every  exposed  surface 
thoroughly  and  often  with  a  mixture  of  three  parts  of  sweet  oil  and 
one  part  of  oil  of  pennyroyal. 

At  the  lake  it  is  always  cold.  The  sunsets  over  its  rugged 
shores  doubled  in  the  crimson  water,  the  frequent  aurora  flashing 
and  streaming  across  the  whole  breadth  of  sky,  and  the  clear  stars 
looking  down  on  a  mirror  as  still,  touch  the  feeling  like  beauty 
wasted,  since  so  rarely  seen,  if  nature  knows  any  waste. 

A  variation  of  sport  may  be  enjoyed  here,  if  one  condescends  to 
capture  the  great  pickerel  abounding  in  the  lake,  either  by  casting  a 
spoon  with  a  stout  rod  among  the  lily-pads,  or  by  lazily  letting  ten 
fathoms  of  line  trail  from  the  canoe  while  the  guiile  paddles  slowly, 
till  one  of  these  pond-sharks,  striking,  gorges  the  gaudy  bait,  and  is 
hauled  up  alongside  and  knocked  in  his  grim  head  with  a  short 
club.  A  couple  of  hours  of  this  rude  sport  yielded  to  one  line  a 
hundred  and  twenty-two  pounds,  the  largest  fish  weighing  eight. 
This  is  merely  justice  pursuing  murder,  since  the  pickerel  is  a 
destroying  terror  to  trout  and  salmon.  They  lurk  in  shoals  around 
the  outlet,  to  seize  the  fish  passing  up  and  wage  havoc  among  them 
for  a  mile  down  the  stream.  I'Lscaping  these  waylayers,  the  fish 
have  still  many  miles  to  run  before  reaching  the  spawning-grounds. 
The  intervening  water  above  the  lake  is  too  free  from  rapids  to 
afford  good  fishing  until  a  tributary  is  reached,  too  far  away  to  be 
attainable  in  the  few  days  remaining.      Pointing   the  flotilla  peaks 


(1 
I;- 


I 


r! 


';>  I 


I  <   - 

1 

1^ 

III 

'!H, 


532 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


Ir 


:  V     • ' 


south  out  of  the  lake,  wc  turn  our  backs  upon  nothing  between  it' 
and  Hudson's  Straits,  except  the  dreary  sohtudes  of  Labrador,  with 
a  few  peaceable  Indian  tribes  scattered  through  them.  In  its  fall  of 
two  hundred  feet  through  seven  miles,  between  the  outlet  and  the 
home  camp,  the  river  brc-aks  into  magnificent  pools,  drained  by 
sharp,  rough  rapids,  with  long  intervening  stretches  of  deep-water 
lurking-places  (even  so  late)  for  salmon.  Many  of  them  of  large 
size  are  passed  lying  at  the  bottom  motionless,  as  if  cased  in  ice,  or 
heard   breaking  at  night.      A  small  one  now  and  then   absorbs  the 

fly.  in  no  part  of  the  river  are 
the  sea-trout  so  large,  bold,  and 
strong.       They    are     no    longer 


#?^P^ 


TIIF.    LAKF.    CAMI'. 


the  gray  trout  that  sailed  in  with  the  tide.  Their  color  is  rich 
and  high  beyond  description, — backs  a  glittering  bronze,  shot 
with  gold,  and  crooked,  dark  streaks;  bellies  like  pearl,  and  fins 
a  fan  of  strong  crimson,  purple,  and  black  spines.  'IMieir  dazzling 
vermilion  spots  "bid  the  rash  gazer  wipe  his  eye."  As  a  new 
puzzle  for  naturalists,  some  of  the  largest  taken  blush  all  excjuisite 
rose  wherever  white  usually  shines.  The  beginning  of  the  fishing 
and  the  verge  of  the  pirate- pickerel's  range  is  marked  by  a  grand 
bald  crag,  towering  four  hundred  feet,  and  sinking  sheer  into  water, 
christened  the  Palisade  Pool,  where  very  large  trout  usually  lie. 
The  next  few  miles  are  a  favorite  preserve,  always  stocked  in  the 
season  with  a  succession  of  splendid  fish.      The  banks,  still  thickly 


'!.' 


Sea  -  Trout  Fishing. 


533 


\     i'OOI.. 


wooded  with  larch, 
spruce,  sycamore, 
and  small  shrubs, 
show  less  of  clay 
than  those  lowitr 
down,  and  more  ol 
pebbly  led^e  and 
short  sandy  beach- 
es, so  that  tishiiiL; 
afloat  isc.\chanj,fed 
for  wailin!^',  which 
insures  a  lon^i'r, 
truer  cast,  and  more  ease  in 
landin}^^  the  fish.  The  long  sum- 
mer days  of  a  week  may  be  fill(>d 
with  excitement  in  whipping  this 
range  of  twenty  or  thirt\  pools. 
So  satisfactory  is  the  work,  in- 
decxl,  that  they  are  usually  gone  over  several  times  on  successive 
ilays  from  a  new  camp  established  near  half-way  down  to  the 
great  fall,  which  separates  them  from  the  lower  range  of  water 
accessible  from  the  original  camp.  This  is  pitched  nc;ar  a  curve,  just 
below  which  the  river  receives  two  or  three  cool  streamlets  into  a 
circular  basin,  parted  from  its  main  course  by  a  little  stony  tongue, 
fringed  with  bushes,  and  about  thirty  yards  across.  This  spring 
pool  is  a  favorite  resting-place  for  trout  on  the  way  up,  and  they 
have  been  seen  literally  paving  its  sandy  floor,  though  its  clearness 
and  e.\posure  to  the  sun  render  them  very  shy.  iM-om  this  pool,  one 
hundred  and  si.x  fish  were  taken  by  one  rod  in  three  days,  thirteen 
of  which  weighed  over  three  pounds,  and  the  largest  five. 

Sunshine  seldom  interferes  seriously  with  the  sport  in  this  region. 
Days  of  sullen,  cold  rain  couk?  on,  leaving  onl\  an  hour  or  two  for 
work  outside  the  tent.  Sudden  thunder-gusts  break  owx  us  while 
afloat,  driving  us  to  the  shelter  of  thick  epinett(;s  (dry  spruces), 
or  even  to  a  pent-house  under  the  canoe,  turned  bottom  up,  and 
propped  on  sticks.  Sometimes  a  strange  cloud  of  thin  mist  fills  the 
valley,  that  seems  to  tingle  with  electricity,  and  is  pung(,nt  with  the 
smell  of  ozone.  So  sensitive  the  nerves  become  to  that  mysteriously 
34A 


I  '  .1 


\ 


(I.' 


I 


U 


% 


% 


''i!'f: 


534 


Sea  -  Tyoiit  Fishing. 


TIIK    Oiri.KT. 


■!■!   .         I 


charged  vapor,  that  one  glances  at  the  twig-tips,  ahnost  expecting 
to  see  them  lit  with  St.  Klmo's  fire,  like  yard-arms  at  sea  in  an 
i;lectric  storm.  Only  some  seasons,  however,  and  some  days  in 
each,  are  tree  from  one  of  the  two  extremes  of  too  much  or  too  little 
rain.  Last  summer,  for  instance,  the  weather  continued  so  hot  and 
dry,  and  the  stream  ran  so  low,  that  for  long  stretches  not  a  fish  was 
to  be  found  at  all  in  the  pools,  all  having  resorted  to  the  mouths  of 
little  inlets,  where  they  hung  clu:;tered  like  a  swarm  of  bees.  Down 
from  the  middle  camp,  the  canoes  go  deeply  loaded  with  tents  and 
fish,  dipping  only  now  and  then  into  an  inviting  pool,  and  taking 
some  hours  to  reach  a  great  rapid  which  seizes  the  river  at  the  open- 
ing of  a  gorge  and  hurls  it  furiously  along  half  a  mile  of  tangled 
rocks,  to  plunge  it  over  a  steep,  picturesque  fall  thirty  feet  high. 
Down  this  rapid  the  guides  will  slowly,  cautiously  pole  or  lead  the 


J^ca  -  Tfoitt  Fishing. 


535 


canoes,  sendinjr  the  passen^^er  to  scramble  alonjr  a  roiijrh  path 
amonjr  the  chffs,  from  uhicli  he  looks  down  on  their  dwindled,  stru.n- 
j^rjin^r  figures,  and  faintly  hears  their  shouts.  They  meet  again  at 
the  fall,  round  which,  ot  course,  the  canoes  are  portaged,  or  slid 
down  through  a  side  chute,  and  we  have  passed  the  portal  of  the 
upper  stream,  and  hid  it  farewell. 

Three  ilays  of  the  best  work  for  one  rod  in  the  upper  waters, 
noted  on  the  score  in  separate  years,  are:  i'  fish  of  79  pounds,  41 
fish  of  83>^  pounds,  39  fish  of  (S6'i  pounds. 

If  the  day  of  coming  down  to  the  home  pool  has  been  properly 
timed,  its  I'vcning  will  be  prolongeil  over  the  cam])-fire  to  watcli  the 
full  moon  rise  above  a  clump  of  pointed  spruces  fronting  the    tent. 
•She  brings  the  promise  of  a  new  run  of  fish,  filling  the;  pools  after 
their  week's  rest,  with  occasional  fine  trout  among  them,  lingering 
behind  the  seniors  on   their  way  up.      A  sweet   sense;  of  civilization 
attentls  the  return  from  the  deeper  forests  to  bed  and  boarti,  and  tin.- 
camp  seems  even   neat  anil  spacious  after  rougher  quarters.      The 
black  flies  are  gone,  and  the  inosciuitoes  only  weakly  wicked.    Somc;- 
times  at  morning  frost  sprinkles  the   ground,  the  days  grow 'cooler, 
and  the  nights  cold,  till  we  sympathize  with    the  man   of  old  who 
cried,  "  .\ha  I    I  am  warm;    I  have  seen  the  fire,"  and  enjoy  the  mere 
animal  jjleasure  of  heat.     The  men  turn  and  resalt  their  fish,  stowed 
in  broad  troughs  of  hemlock  bark.     The  smell  attracts  small  animals, 
and  sometimes  there    is  an    alarm   in   camp  that  a  bear  has  snufted 
them  out,  and  running  out  with  the  gun  in  the  chilly  ni'dit  air,  vou 
catch  sight  of  a  lynx  making  off  with  one  in  his  mouth.     The  sport 
is  still  fine;   the  fish,  though   not  quite  of  the  size  of  those  earlier, 
rising  and  running  with  a  dash,      ikit  the  stores  are  dwindlinis  the 
canoes  get  leaky  in  spite  of  pitching,  and  the  weather  turns  windy 
and  changeable.     The  dull  boom  of  the  fog-gun  from  the  light-house 
island — thirty  miles  off  on  the  south  shore  of  the  great  river — rolls 
oftener  up  the  valley  with  a  warning  that  autumn  mists  are  gatherin<»- 
and  autumn  storms  brewing.     There  steals  on  a  .sense  of  having  been 
a   month    without  telegrams  or  letters,    and    suddenly  some   morn- 
ing you  say  '-enough,"  and  order  the   flotilla  down  to  i\\<i  c/ia/oiific 
with  everything  not  needed  for  one  day  more.      Ne.xt  day,  after  an 
early  breakfast,  we  strike  tents,  pitch   the  table  and  chairs  into  the 
bushes  to  save  them  from  spring  floods,  pack  the  canoes  with  what 


I 


i  f, 


m 


f!" 

Hi' 

i: 

,    '  i 

[11 - 

i!  ^ 

T"  i    ' 

ii 

h     > 


'I.  ■• 


\Hl 


? 


Hi    ■ 


1' 

1 

s 

1 

i 

i 

i 

536 


Sea -J  roil  I  I'isliiiig. 


remains  to  make  an  aniplo  load,  ami  cast  one  lonj^nnjf,  iinjjfcring  fly 
behind  before  pusiunjL,^  into  the  eiirrent.  The  catcii  is  always  very 
j^ood  on  the  way  down  in  point  of  ninnbers,  hut  is  apt  to  reduce  the 
score  as  to  averaj^^e  of  weii;ht.  It  is  not  always  possible  to  fish  or 
even  to  pause.  Two  seasons  ay;o,  the  riser  was  v«'ry  full  on  enterinj,^ 
it,  and  afte-r  a  week's  difficult  fishinj^,  it  rose  steadily,  widi  heav\ 
showers,  till  its  olive  surface  turned  mfc-aii-liiit  color,  and  rolK'd 
bank-full,  effacinif  rocks  and  rapids  alike.  Down  the  middle,  it 
tossed  in  waves  over  the  sunken  bowlders.  .\  canoe  would  (|uickly 
ha\e  foundered  tlu;re,  and  we  were  forced  to  drift  alonj^r  tlu'  marj^dr., 
with  the  aid  of  branches,  fairly  washed  out  of  the  valli'y  by  the 
torrent.  Ihe  kinj^rfisher  screams  aloni^  the  santls  as  we  pass;  per- 
haps a  beaver  poki;s  his  nose  cautiously  out  amon<^  alder  roots;  or  a 
disturbed  owl  lloats  silently  off  into  the  woods.  ,\t  lenj;th,  after 
leisurely  and  regretfully  ilroppinjj^  ilown  for  hours,  \\\v  clmloiif^cs  thin 
mast  points  above  the  next  turn,  and  the  <|uickened  padilles  cut  the 
tide-water,  drivinj^'  the  canoes  alontjside  to  take  possession  if  she  is 
found  all  ri!L,du. 

She  ma)-  be  found  in  (|uite  a  ilifferent  conililion.  .Some  seasons 
a^o,  the  men  had  left  her  llu;  previous  ni.^ht  hauled  out  into  a  little 
ba\.  and  anchored  on  so  bail  a  bottom  that  when  she  irrounded  with 
th(.'  falliiiij  tide  a  rock  started  one  of  the  planks  below  her  (piarter, 
and  she  lay  stern  under,  half  full  of  water,  when  we  boarded  her. 
I'ishin^'  out  her  carifo,  and  dr\in,y'  on  the  rocks  what  remained 
unspoiled,  was  a  tedious  waste  of  time  ;  but  when  lit;hteni'd  and 
puni|jed  out,  her  plankinjir  spranjj;  into  place  anil  was  easil\-  secured. 
The  voyaj^e  back  oftenest  consumes  two  ilays  and  niy^hts  against  a 
down-stream  wind,  sometimes  stronir  enout^h  to  raise  an  uncomfort- 
able sea  in  makint^  the  port  tack  while  the  tide  ebbs,  and  to  drive 
us  to  some  anchoratje  till  it  turns.  (iood  and  honest  fellows  as  the 
jTuides  are,  there  is,  perhaps,  the  slijLjhtest  possible  disposition  on  the 
skipper's  part  to  lentrthen  the  cruise  for  his  chartered  craft  by  a  half 
day  or  more,  so  that  it  is  usually  early  mornin<^  when  she  works 
slowly  u])  with  sweeps  aiji^ainst  the  edtres  of  the  powerful  .Sai'Mcna 
current    and    rounds   the    point    into    Tadousac    Hay.       The  ,^ 

birds  have    flown  from   the  cottatjes   and  hotel, —  the    hoi  ems 

only  waitinti;'  our  return    to  put  out  the  fire  in   its  hospita        stove 
and  close  its  doors   for  the  season.     The  steamer  leaves  L  .Anse  \\ 


\\'\ 


S('(f-  Tfoiit  /•is/ii/nr. 


537 


(JIU    SKIIM'KK. 


I'l'^aii  for  (hichcc  late  in  the  aflcrnooii,  j^iviiitj  tiiiv  for  a  substantial 
civili/t:cl  iliniuT  otV  otlicr  service  than  tin  ami  tor  st;itlinj4  tlu; 
accDunts  of  tiic  iriiisf. 

The  usual  cliari^c  tor  canoc-incn  is  a  ilollar  and  a  lialt  a  (la\,  in 
tjfoicl,  and  ioi'  llic  iluilniipc,  witii  its  owner's  services,  two  dollars. 
A  lii)c:ral  rule  for  calculation  in  layins^  in  suppliers  at  (  hiehec  is  to 
allow  tliirt\-  cents  tor  each  ration,  on  th<'  hasis  ot"  two  s(.'r\ed  to 
(•very  man  ot"  the  part)  each  day  tor  ortlinary  stores,  with  an  addi- 
tion for  \\'\\\c-  and  sjjirits  shippi'd,  and  for  what  the  Oi-rnians  call 
liclicatcssiii,  tVou''  which  a  (|uart  of  lime  juice  should  1)\  no  means  be 


!*■ 


^ 


I 


'    M       i 


ji  m 


'**  1 


I'l 


w 

I 

h 

! 

i  u 


538 


Sea -'I'm  It  t  lushing. 


oiiiiiUHl.  TIk;  avcraj^c  cusl  of  ilic  inonlli's  iixcursion  in  c;ach  of  four 
yiuirs — onci!  with  three  in  the  party,  once  with  two,  and  twic«;  alone 
— has  hc;t;n  from  three  hundred  and  s(;v('nty  to  four  hunth-ed  dollars, 
incluilinj^  the  sum  paid  for  license  to  use  the  stream,  as  for  salnion- 
lishing.      It   results,    therefore,    that  with    respect   to   region,    route, 


;•  r; 


f'iii:    t  ::l 


\\  \ 


ifM^ 


IIOMI- U' \HI)     lUilNH. 


'■J 


ecjuipment,  and  expense, — as  to  all  things  indei;d  (excepting  season, 
tackle,  and  size  of  fish, — there  is  littU:  difference  l>elween  salmon- 
fishing  and  sea-trout  fishing  ;  ami  the  angler  who  can  choost;  his 
month  will,  of  course,  prefer  the  former.  If  forced  to  content  hims(!lf 
with  the  minor  sport,  he  will  lind  lh;il  iK^alth  and  experience  are  no 
less  essential  to  its  enjoyment,  and  that  the  charms  of  Nature,  impar- 
tially kinil  to  all  enthusiastic  wooers  who  s(;ek  her  wilderness  :-hrine, 
will  more  than  compensate  for  its  comparativt!  tameness.  The 
following  instance's  may  prove  that  his  record,  if  modtist,  is  not 
likely  to  h(.'  insignificant:  even  though  it  might  not  pri)vokc 
Mistress  (  )uicklv's  comment  — 


i-Si 


I 


I'll  warraiU  v<>ii,  he's  an  infinitive  tltini;  (in  tlic  scuri:." 


\'i'ar>. 

K(h1s. 

Dav-. 

\, 

).  of  llsll. 

Wd^'lil. 

.872  . 

•    3 

'7 

ICI7 

1204  lbs 

.874  . 

2 

'3 

117. 

274    '• 

•«7S  • 

I 

10 

282 

399    " 

1876  . 

.     1 

23 

389 

1^60    " 

AviTlm'.  <  IVIT    T,   ll)S 

I  11).  3     ()/..  92 

•   "    3'--"  7 

I   ••   fii.s  "■  14 

I   '•    7      '■  26 


Sca-'l'ivni  I'is/iing. 


539 


fi 


I  in.    f|-src.M-iiii|-s|-..  nil  iii-c. 


WliiMi  the  aiiLjlfr,  n.'coinitiiiL;'  tli<;s(!  captives  of  his  sled,  picliircs 
aiLT-'iin  each  hrij^hl  scene  and  Iidim"  of  his  summer's  ncn  ation,  it  wih 
not  he  tile  l(;ast  oi  Ilis  ])ieasures  to  renK'inher  llial  its  iVnits  are  aiiliiiL; 
to  mal<e  the  cheerless  life  ol  liis  i^-uides  more  eii(liiral)le,  in  tlie  lon^ 
winter  wiiile  tliose  (larl\  lorests  l)ow  Ixineath  tiie  ucic^rhl  ot  snows, 
ami  tile  stiffcnint^' river  sliixcrs  throm^li  all  its  deptiis  under  tlie  lijasts 
stormin'.'' <lo\vn  lliose  stern   1 -aurentian  vallex'-;. 


m, 


i  1  :  ^ 


11 

!ii 

) 

ik 

1 

^:^\%4 


w  'i- 


^.,, 


'■,1  ?  ■' 

ly 

TH1{     HALCYON     IN    CANADA. 


Hv    JOHN     IUKR()r(;HS, 


ArrilOH     III     "WIN  II  K     M'NSHINK,"    "WAKK     KdHlN .   '  ' '  l.(  M  I  s  I  >     AMI     Willi     lldNF.Y,"    KTC. 


THIv  halcyon,  or  kinirfishcr,  is  ;i  (rood  guide  when  you  <ro  to  the 
woods.  He  will  not  insure  smooth  water  or  fair  weath<;r,  hut 
he  knows  every  stream  and  lake  like  a  hook,  and  will  take 
yju  to  the  wildest  and  most  unfre(|uented  places,  i-'ollow  his  rattle, 
and  you  shall  see  the  source  of  e\er\-  trout  and  salmon  stream  on 
the  continent.  You  .^iiall  see  the  Lake  of  W'ootls.  and  far-off  .Ailia- 
haska  and  Abbitihbe,  and  the  unknown  streams  that  How  into  Hud- 
son's Ha)-,  and  many  others.  His  tinu'  is  the  time  of  the  trout,  too, 
namely,  from  April  to  September.  He  maki-s  his  subterranean  nest 
in  the  l)ank  of  some  favorite  stream,  and  then  t^oes  on  lonsj^  e.xcur- 
sions  up  and  down  ami  over  woods  and  mountains  to  all  the  waters 
within  reach,  always  fishimu^  alone,  the  true  ant,r|er  that  he  is,  his 
fellow  keeping-  far  ahead  or  behind  or  taking  the  other  branch.  He 
loves  the  sound  of  a  water-fall,  and  will  sit  a  long  time  on  a  dr\ 
limb  ovcThanging  the  pool  below  it,  and,  forgetting  his  occupation, 
i)rood  upon  his  own  niemories  and  fancies. 

The  past  season,  my  friend  and  I  took  a  hint  from  him,  and  wiien 
the  tlog-star  began  to  blaze,  set  out  for  Canada,  making  a  big  cU'tour 
to  touch  at  salt  water  and  to  take  New  York  and  Hoston  on  our 
wa\. 

The  latter  city  was  new  to  mc,  and  w(;  paused  there  and  angled 
a  couple  of  days,  and  caught  an  editor,  a  philosopher,  and  a  poet, 
and  might  have  caught  more  if  we  had  had  a  mind  to,  for  these 
waters  are  full  of 'em,  and  big  ones,  too. 


' 

1 

> 

1 

;*, 

I 

i , 

1  j 

i ' 

IB 

,1 

i  \ 

■',} 

'1 

•I'J 


fijJKji 


.M 


'ir 


542 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


\  \. 


it-'-    *  '-' 


%. 


Coming  from  the  mountainous  rc«j;ion.s  of  tin;  Hudson,  vvc  saw 
little  in  tlu;  way  of  scenery  that  arrested  our  attention  until  we 
beheld  the  St.  Lawrence,  though  one  gets  glimpses  now  anil  then 
as  he  is  whirled  along  through  New  Hampshire  and  Vermont  that 
make  him  wish  for  a  fuller  view.  It  is  always  a  pleasure  to  hring 
to  pass  the  geography  of  ones  boyhood ;  'tis  like  the  fulfilling  of  a 
dream;  hence  it  was  with  pat'tial  eyes  that  I  looked  upon  the  Merri- 
mac,  the  Connecticut,  and  the  Passumpsic, — dusky,  squaw-colored 
streams,  whose  names  I  had  learned  so  long  ago.  The  traveler 
opens  his  eyes  a  little  wiiler  when  he  reaches  Lake  Memphremagog, 
es])ecially  if  he  havi;  the;  luck  to  si;e  it  under  such  a  sunset  as  wi- 
did,  its  hurnishetl  surface  glowing  like  molten  gold.  This  lake  is  an 
immense  trough  that  accommodates  both  sides  of  the  fence,  though 
the  larger  and  longer  part  of  it  by  far  is  in  Canada.  Its  western 
shore  is  bold  and  |)icturestpK;,  being  skirtetl  by  a  detachment  of  the 
(ireen  Mountains,  the  main  range  of  which  is  .seen  careering  along 
the  horizon  far  to  the  south-west;  to  the  east  and  north,  whither  the 
railroad  takes  you,  the  country  is  flat  and  monotonous. 

The  first  peculiarity  one  notices  about  the  farms  in  this  northern 
countr\'  is  tlu;  close  pro.ximity  of  the  house  and  barn,  in  most  cases 
the  two  buildings  touching  at  some  i)oinl, — an  arrangement  doubt- 
less prompted  by  thi'  deep  snows  and  severe  cold  of  this  latitude. 
The  typical  Canatlian  dwelling-house;  is  also  presently  met  witli  on 
entering  the  Dominion, — alow,  modest  structuri;  of  hewn  spruce 
logs,  with  a  steep  roof  (containing  two  or  more  dormiT  windows) 
that  ends  in  a  smart  curve-,  a  hint  taken  from  thi'  Chinese;  pagoda. 
I'.ven  in  the  more  costly  l)rick  or  stone  houses  in  the;  towns  and 
vicinity  this  style  is  adheretl  to.  It  is  so  universal  that  one  wonders 
if  the;  reason  of  it  also  be  not  in  tin;  climate,  the  outward  curve  of  the 
roof  shooting  the  sliding  snow  farther  away  from  the  dwi;lling.  It 
affi)rds  a  wide  projection,  in  manv  cases  covering  a  veranda,  and  in 
all  cases  protecting  the  doors  ami  windows  without  interfering  with 
the  light.  In  the  better  class  of  clap-boarded  houses,  the  finish 
beneath  the  projecting  eaves  is  also  a  sweeping  curve,  opposing  and 
bracing  that  of  the  roof  \  two-story  country  house  or  a  .MansartI 
roof,  1  do  not  remember  to  -vive  .seen  in  Canada ;  but  in  ])laces 
they  have  become  so  enamored  of  the  white  of  the  snow  that 
they  even  whitewash  the  rt)ofs  of  their  liuildings,   giving  a  cluster 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


543 


l.AKK    M  KM  I'll  K  KM  AGOG. 

t)f  them  the  impression,  at  a  distance,  of  an  encampment  of  irnat 
tents. 

As  we  iieared  I'oint  \a\\'\,  opposite  (  hiebec,  we  i^ot  our  tirst  view 
of  the  St.  Lawrc:nce.  "  Hiad  of  rivers  !"  exclaimed  in\'  friend.  "Yet 
iinsunt;!"  The  lludson  must  tak(-  a  hack  seat  now,  and  a  i;()()d 
ways  hack.  One  of  the  two  or  three  j^reat  water-courses  of  the 
}j[iohe  is  h(;fore  you.  No  other  river,  I  ima_<,dne,  carries  such  a  vohnne 
of  pure  cold  water  to  the  sea.  Nearly  all  its  feeders  are  trout  and 
salmon  streams,  and  what  an  airin_i(  and  what  a  hleachinij  it  ,tr(;ts  on 
its  course.  Its  history,  its  antecedents,  are  unparalleled.  The  t^rc-at 
lakes  are  its  campin<j;'-!L;rounds ;  here  its  hosts  repose  under  the  sun 
and  stars  in  areas  like  that  of  states  and  kint,fdoms,  and  it  is  its 
waters  that  shake  the  earth  at  Niaj^ara.  When;  it  receivc.-s  the- 
Sajruenay  it  is  twenty  miles  wide,  and  when  it  del)ouch(;s  into  th(; 
Gulf  it  is  a  hundred.  Indeed,  it  is  a  chain  of  Homc^ric  sul)limities 
from  l)e<rinnin<.j  to  end.  The  i^reat  cataract  is  a  fit  se(juel  to  the 
jrreat  lakes;  the  spirit  that  is  born  in  vast  and  tem|)estuous  .Supe-rior 
takes  its  full  j^lut  of  power  in  that  fearful  chasm.  If  paradise  is 
hinted  in  the  Thousand  Islands,  hell  is  unveil(;d  in  that  pit  of  t(,Trors. 

Its  last  esca|)ade  is  the  threat  rapids  above  Montreal,  down  which 
the  steamer  shoots  with  its  l^reathless  passent^ers,  after  which,  in- 
halins.^  and  exhalinj^  its  mighty  tides,  it  tlows  cahnly  to  the  sea. 


ii 


M 

'I  nil 


t;     i',  i! 


•!Fr 


I 


i 
I. 


fll 


»■     1 


544 


y/if  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


""'  iiy 

n1 

ON    THK    ST.    I.WVRKNCK,    NKAK    MONTRKXI,. 


The  St.  Lawrence  is  the  typ<;  of  nearly  all  the  Canadian  rivers, 
which  are  strunjf  with  lakes  and  rapids  and  cataracts,  and  are  full  t)f 
peril  and  adventure. 

Here  we  reach  the  oldest  part  of  the  continent,  tji^olot^ists  tell 
us,  and  here  we  encounter  a  fra_i,nnent  of  the  Old  World  civilization. 
Ouebec  presents  the  anomaly  of  a  mediaeval  European  city  in  the 
midst  of  the  American  landscape.  This  air,  this  sk)-,  these  clouds, 
these  trees,  the  look  of  these  fields,  are  what  we  have  always  known  ; 
but  these  houses,  and  streets,  and  vehicles,  and  language,  and 
physiognomy,  are  strange.  As  I  walked  upon  the  grand  terrace,  I 
saw  the  robin  and  kingbird  and  song-sparrow,  and  there  in  the 
tree,  by  Wolfe  Monument,  our  summer  warbler  was  at  home.  1 
presently  saw,  also,  that  our  Republican  crow  was  a  British  subject, 
and  that  he  behaved  here  more  like  his  European  brother  than  he 
does  in  the  States,  being  less  wild  and  suspicious.  On  the  Plains  of 
.Abraham,  excellent  timothy  grass  was  growing  and  cattle  were  graz- 
ing. We  found  a  path  through  the  meadow,  and,  with  the  exception 
of  a  very  abundant  weed  with  a  blue  flower,  saw  nothing  new  or 
strange, — nothing  but  the  steep,  tin  roofs  of  the  city  and  its  frown- 
ing wall  and  citadel.  Sweeping  around  the  far  southern  horizon,  we 
could  catch  glimpses  of  mountains  that  were  evidently  in  Maine  or 
New   Hampshire,    while   twelve    or  fifteen   miles  to   the   north   the 


The  I  Idle  von  ill  (  ainuia. 


^ 


545 


Laurontian  ranj^cs,  tlark  and  Ibrinidaljle,  arrested  the  eye.  Oucbec,  or 
the  walled  part  of  it,  is  situated  on  a  point  of  land  shaped  not  unlike 
the  human  foot,  looking-  north-east,  the  higher  and  holder  side  luMny- 
next  the  rivt.T,  with  the  main  part  of  the  town  on  the  northern  slope 
toward  the  St.  Charles.  Its  toes  are  well  down  in  the  mutl  where 
this  stream  joins  the  JSt.  Lawrence,  while  the  citadel  is  hit,di  on  the; 
instep  and  commands  the  whole  field.     The  >;rand   Battery  is  a  little 


riir.    THOUSAND    ISI  AMIS. 


below,  on  the  brink  of  the  instep,  so  to  speak,  and  the  promenader 
looks  down  several  hundred  feet  into  the  tops  of  the  chimneys  of  this 
part  of  the  lower  town  and  upon  the  threat  river  sw(;epin_«f  by  north- 
eastward like  another  Amazon.  The  heel  of  our  misshapen  foot 
extends  indefinitely  toward  Montreal.  I'pon  it,  on  a  level  with  the 
citadel,  are  the  Plains  of  .\braham.  It  was  up  its  hi^h.  almost  i)er- 
pendicular,  sides  that  Wolfe  claml)c:r(.'d  with  his  army,  and  stood  in 
the  rear  of  his  enemy  one  pleasant  September  morning'  over  a 
hundred  years  ay^o. 

To  th<;  north  and  iiortli-east  of  ( )u(l)ec,  and  in  fiill  view  from  the 
upper  parts  t)f  the  cit)-,  lii:s  a  rich  belt  of  a<^ricultural  countr)-,  slopinj^' 
y;ently  toward  the  river,  and  runnins,^  parallel  with  it  for  man\-  miles, 
called  the  Heauport  slopes.  The  tlivision  of  the  land  into  uniform 
parallelot^rams,  as  in  braiice,  was  a  marked  feature,  antl  is  so 
throu>,diout  the  Dominion.  .\  road  ran  throu<rh  tiie  midst  of  it  lined 
with  trees,  and  leadini^  to  the  falls  of  the  Montmorency.       I  imajrine 

35 


\\ 


% 


r..  -  : 


! 


li: 


'I 


H^ 


n 


1 

^n'l 

'  ! 

'f 

1 

l? 

IJ' 

'.>'■',  ''i 

u^ 

'  ■  . 

1 

!    < 


i  >: 


WW,':'  ~i 


546 


7//C  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


that  this  section  is  the  garden 
of  Quebec.  Beyond  it  rose 
the  mountains.  Our  eyes 
looked  wistfully  toward  them, 
for  we  had  decided  to  pene- 
trate the  Canadian  woods  in 
that  direction. 

One  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  miles  from  (_)uebec.  as 
the  loon  flies,  almost  due  north, 
over  unbroken  spruce  forests, 
lies  Lake  .St.  John,  the  cradle 
of  the  terrible  Sajruenay.  ( )n 
the  map,  it  looks  like  a  great 
cuttle-fish,  with  its  numerous  arms  and  tentacula  reaching  ouv 
in  all  directions  into  the  wilds.  It  is  a  large.',  oval  body  of 
water,  thirty  miles  in  its  greatest  diameter.  The  season  here,  owing 
to  a  sharp  northern  sweep  of  the  isothermal  lines,  is  two  or  three 
weeks  earlier  than  at  Quebec.  The  soil  is  warm  and  fertile,  and 
there  is  a  thrifty,  growing  settlement  here,  with  valuable  agricultural 


THK    CITAUKL    AT    yLKUKC. 


*'■'  'I 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada, 


547 


produce,  but  no  market  nearer  than  Ouel)ec.  two  hundred  and  fifty 
miles  distant  by  water,  with  a  hard,  tedious  huid  journey  besides. 
In  winter,  the  settlement  can  have  little  or  no  communication  with 
the  outside  world. 

To  relieve  this  isolated  colony  and  encoura.L(e  further  develop- 
ment of  the  .St.  John  rei^ion,  the  Canatlian  (iovernment  is  buiklinj^ 
a  wajron-road  through  the  wilderness  from  Ouebec  ilirectly  to  the 
lake,  thus  economizing,'  half  the  distance,  as  the  road  when  com- 
pleted will  form  with  the  old  route,  the  .Saguenay  or  St.  Lawrenct;, 
one  side  of  an  ecjuilateral  triangle.  A  railroad  was  projected  a  few 
years  ago  over  nearly  the  same  ground,  and  the  contract  to  build 
it  given  to  an  enterprising  \'ankee,  who  pocketetl  a  part  of  the 
money  and  has  never  been  heard  of  since.  The  road  runs  for  one 
hundred  miles  through  an  unbroken  wilderness,  and  opens  up  scores 
of  streams  and  lakes  abounding  with  trout,  into  which,  until  the 
road-makers  fished  them,  no  white  man  had  ever  cast  a  hook. 

It  was  a  good  prospect,  and  wt;  resolved  to  commit  ourselves 
to  the  St.  John  road.  The  services  of  a  young  fellow,  whom  by 
reason  of  his  impracticable  I'rench  name  we  called  Joe,  was  secured, 
and  after  a  tlelay  of  twenty-four  hours  we  were  packed  upon  a 
Canadian  buckboartl,  with  hard-tack  in  one  bag  and  oats  in  another, 
and  the  journey  began.  It  was  .Sunday,  and  we  hekl  up  our  heads 
more  confidently  when  we  got  beyond  the  throng  of  well-dressed 
church-goers.  l'"or  ten  miles,  we  had  a  good  st  Mie  road  and  rattled 
along  it  at  a  lively  pace.  In  about  half  that  distance  we  came  to 
a  large  brick  church,  where  we  began  to  see  the  rural  population, 
or  hahitans.  They  came  mostly  in  two-w'heeled  vehicles,  some  of 
the  carts  quite  fanc\-,  in  which  the  young  fellows  rode  complacently 
beside  their  girls.  The  two-wheeler  predominates  in  Canada  and 
is  of  all  styles  and  sizes.  .After  we  left  the  stone  road,  we  began 
to  encounter  the  hills  that  are  preliminary  to  the  mountains.  The 
farms  looked  like  the  wilder  and  poorer  parts  of  Maine  or  New 
Hampshire.  While  Joe  was  getting  a  supply  of  hay  of  a  farmer  to 
take  into  the  woods  for  his  horse,  I  walked  through  a  fi(;ld  in  (|uest 
of  wild  strawberries.  The  season  for  them  was  past,  it  being  the 
20th  of  July,  and  I  found  barely  enough  to  make  me  think  that 
the  strawberry  here  is  far  less  jKingent  and  high-flavored  than 
with  us. 


' 'l 


f  ( 


<1< 


1  tj 


548 


The  link  von  in  ( (inm/d. 


1   ' 

1 

ll  '  ' 

ri    fi      ,    ',( 

1 

|j   i    'i        1 

tw  > 

? 

>■ 

jfr    ■•!:, 

mMla 

( 

i  jf,^^.?5?v3V^^^;^ 


A    (  Al  fcc  II K. 

The  cattle  in  the  fields  and  l)y  the  road-side  looked  very  small 
and  delicate,  the  eflect,  no  doubt,  of  the  s(;vere  climate.  We  saw 
manv  rude  implements  of  ayfriculture, — such  as  wooden  plows  shod 
with  iron.  We  |)assed  several  parlies  of  nuMi,  wonuMi,  and  children 
from  Ouei)ec,  |)icnickinLj  in  the  "  hush."  Wvrv  it  was  little  more 
than  a  "hush";  hut  while  in  Canaila,  we  nin'er  heard  the;  woods 
designated  by  any  othir  term.  1  noticed,  also,  that  when  a  distance 
of  a  few  miles  or  of  a  fraction  of  a  mile  is  to  be  desi<rnated,  the  I'rench 
Canadian  does  not  use  the  term  miles,  but  says  it's  so  many  acres 
through  or  to  the  next  place. 


I'lic  lI(il(\'oii  in  ( (iiKu/a. 


549 


This  fondness  lor  ilic  "  l)iisli";ii  tliis  season  seems  <|iiite  a  marked 
feature  in  the  social  W^v  of  the;  averaj^^e  Oueh(!cer,  and  is  one  of  the 
orijrinal  i'rench  traits  that  iiolds  its  own  amon}^-  tlu'm.  I'arties  leave 
the  cit)-  in  carts  and  \vaj;,a)ns  hy  midnight,  or  earlier,  and  drive  out 
as  far  as  the\  can  the  remaimler  of  th<'  ni^ht,  in  order  to  pass  the 
whole  Sunilay  in  the  woods,  despite  the  mos(|uitoes  and  Mack  Hies. 
Those  we  saw  seemed  a  decent,  harmle-ss  set,  whose  idea  of  a  ^(jod 
time  was  \.o  be  in  the  open  air,  and  as  far  into  the  "hush"  as 
possible. 

TIk;  post-road,  as  the  new  .St.  Jo!ui's  road  is  also  called,  be<.,dns 
twenty  mik^s  from  (hiebec  at  Sioneham,  the  farthest  settlement. 
Mv(!  miles  into  the  fori'st  ujxju  the  new  road  is  the  hamlet  of  La 
Chance;  (pronounced  I, a  Shaunce;,  the  List  house  till  }()U  reach  the 
lake,  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  distant.  Our  (k;stination  the 
first  nijrhl  was  La  Clianc(;'s ;  this  would  enable  us  to  reach  tin; 
Jac(|ues  Carlier  River,  forty  mik;s  farllier,  where  we  proposal  to 
encamp,  in  the  aftcjrnoon  of  the  ne.\t  da).  We  were  now  fairly 
amon^f  the  mountains,  and  the  sun  was  well  down  behind  the  trees 
when  we  entered  upon  llu;  post-road.  It  pnwed  to  be  a  wide,  well- 
built  hi.!L,di\va\-.  ,t(rass-L;rown,  but  in  j^^ood  condition.  .After  an  hour's 
travel  \vc;  beoan  lo  s(;e  sij^ns  of  a  clearins^^,  and  about  si.\  o'clock 
drew  up  in  front  of  the  lon^,  low,  Iol;  habitation  of  La  Chance. 
Their  hearth-stone  was  outdoor  at  this  season,  and  its  smoke  rose 
throuj^h  the  still  atmosphen'  in  a  frail  column  toward  th»;  sky. 
The  family  was  jrathered  here,  and  welconunl  us  cordially  as  we 
drew  up,  the  master  shakinL,^  us  by  the  hand  as  if  we  wvxv  old 
friends.  Mis  JMii^lish  was  \(;r\  poor,  and  our  hrench  was  poorer; 
but  with  Joe  as  a  bridt^cj  between  us,  communication  on  a  pitch  was 
ke|)t  up.  Ilis  wif(;  could  speak  no  Lntjlish  ;  but  here  true  I'Vench 
politeness  and  i^raciousness  was  a  laniL^uaLCe  we  coulil  readily  under- 
stand. Ovir  supper  was  n^ot  ready  from  oiu"  own  supplies,  while  we 
sat  or  stood  in  the  op(;n  air  al>out  ihv  hre.  I'he  clearin_L(  comprised 
fifty  or  si.\t\'  acres  of  roui^h  land  in  the  bottom  of  a  narrow  valley,  and 
bore  indifferent  cr()|is  of  oats,  barley,  potatoes,  and  Mmothy  }.,rrass. 
The  latter  was  just  in  bloom,  beinL;  a  month  or  more  later  than  with 
us.  The  primitive:  woods,  mostly  of  l)irch,  with  a  sprinklini,^  of  spruce, 
put  a  hi<,di  cavernous  wall  about  the  scene.  flow  sweetl\-  the  birds 
san<^,  their  notes  seemiuL^  to  have  unusual  streni^th  and  volume  in 
3  5  A 


11 


.if! 


% 


iriiii 


.i 


m 


1 

it  ■ 

550 


I'lic  llahvou  in  Canada. 


A    CANADIAN     INTI.KIOK. 


this  forcst-houml  opcninij^ !  The  principal  sintrcr  was  the  whitc- 
thn)at(!(l  sparrow,  which  we  ht;aril  and  saw  cvcrvwhcrc  on  tlic  route. 
Ik-  is  called  iiere  la  sijj/iiir — the  whistler,  and  ver)-  delij^ditfiil  his 
whistU;  was.  i'Vom  the  forest  came  the  evening  hyinn  of  a  thrush, — 
the  olive-backed,  periiaps, — like,  hut  less  clear  and  full  than,  the 
veerie's. 

In  th(!  ex'CMiini^',  we  sat  ahout  the  tire  in  ruile  honie-niaik;  chairs, 
and  had  such  hroki'U  and  (lisjoint(;il  talk  as  we  coukl  manage.  Our 
host  had  lived  in  <hiel)iT,  antl  been  a  school-teacher  there;  h(!  had 
witddetl  the  birch  until  In-  lost  his  health,  wIk^mi  he  came  here  and 
the  birches  yave  it  back  to  him.  He  was  now  heart)'  and  well,  and 
had  a  family  of  si.\  or  se-ven  children  about  him. 

We  were  t^iven  a  >rood  bed  that  niyht,  and  fareil  better  than  we 
expected,  .\bout  one  o'clock.  I  was  awakenetl  by  suppressed  voices 
outside  the  winilow.  Who  coukl  it  be?  Had  a  band  of  brii^ands 
surroundeil  the  house?  As  our  outfit  and  sup])lies  had  not  been 
removed  from  the  wayon  in  front  of  the  door,  1  got  up,  ami,  liftinjr 
one  corner  of  the  window  pa|)er,  peeped  out.  I  saw  in  the  dim  moon- 
light k)ur  or  five  men  engaged   in  low  conversation.      Presently,  one 


I  he  Halcyon  in  (  anada. 


55' 


of  llic  nuMi  advaiici'd  Uj  llu;  door  and  l)cj^an  to  rap  and  call  the  name 
of  our  host.  ilun  I  knew  tluMr  errantl  was  not  hostile;  hut  the 
weird  effect  of  that  rej^ular  alternate  rappinj,^  and  callinjf  ran  thr<'Uj^ii 
my  dream  all  tin;  rest  of  tin-  nii,dit,  Rat-tat,  tat,  tat, —  La  Chance.  Kat- 
tat,  tat, —  La  Chance,  five  or  six  times  repeateil,  hefori'  La  Chance 
heard  and  responded.  'Ihen  the  door  opened  and  they  came  in, 
wluMi  it  was  jahher,  jahher,  jabber  in  the  ne.xt  room  till  I  fell  asleep. 

In  the  morninj^f,  to  my  in(|uiry  as  to  who  the  travelers  were  and 
what  they  wanted,  I, a  Chance  said  they  were  old  actpiaintances 
jfoinjL,^  a-fishini;'  and  had  stopped  to  havi'  a  little  talk. 

Breakfast  was  served  early  and  we  were  upon  the  road  before 
the  sun.  ihen  beyan  a  forty-mile  ride  throuj^di  a  ilense  Canadian 
spruce  forest  over  the  drift  ami  bowlders  of  the  paleozoic  aire.  Up 
to  this  |)()int,  the  scener\-  had  been  (juitc:  familiar,  —  not  much  unlikt! 
that  of  the  Catskills, — but  now  there  was  a  chanjLji! ;  the  birches  dis- 
appeared, e.\c(!pt  now  and  then  a  slender  white  or  paper  birch,  and 
spruce  (.'verywhere  prevailetl.  .\  narrow  belt  on  c^ach  sitle  of  tin; 
road  had  been  blasted  b\'  fire,  ami  the  ilry,  white  stems  of  the 
trees  stood  stark  and  stiff  The  road  ran  pretty  strai^'ht,  skirting' 
the  mountains  antl  treading;-  the  valleys,  ami  hour  after  hour  the 
dark,  silent  wooils  wheeled  past  us.  Swarms  of  black  Hies — those 
insect  wolves  —  waylaid  us,  and  \\\\\v^  to  us  till  a  smart  spurt  of  the 
horse,  where  the  road  favoreil,  left  them  behind.  Hut  a  species  of 
lartje  horse-fly,  black  and  vicious,  it  was  not  so  eas\-  lo  >^v\  riil 
of  When  they  ali,<fhtetl  u|)()n  the  horse,  we  would  ilemolish  thiMii 
with  th(!  whip  or  with  our  fi;lt  hats,  a  ijroceedinj^r  the  horse  soon 
came  to  understand  and  appn.'ciate.  Ww  white  and  .L,n-a\'  Laurentian 
bowlders  lay  alonj^r  thi;  road-side.  The  soil  seemed  as  if  made  up 
of  deca)ed  and  pulverized  rock,  and  doubtless  contained  very  little 
vetretable  matter.  It  is  so  barren  that  it  will  ne\er  repay  clearintr 
and  cultivatinL,^ 

Our  course  was  an  up-L^^r.uU;  toward  the  hii^^hlands  that  separate 
the  water-shed  of  .St.  John  Lak('  from  that  of  tlie  St.  Lawrence  ; 
and  as  wt'  proceetleil,  the  spruce  became  smaller  and  smaller  till 
the  trees  were  st^ldom  more  than  eiLjht  or  ti;n  inches  in  diameter. 
Xearl\-  all  of  them  terminatetl  in  a  dense  tuft  at  the  top,  beneath 
which  the  stem  would  be  bare  for  several  feet,  i.,dvin<»-  them  the 
appearance,  my  friend   said,  as  they  stood  sharply  defined  alony  the 


ii^ 


(! 

■k 


t.   f 


m 


I 


r 


I  •! 


¥. 


fl 


ml 

KM 


fl:  ■  Wi 


ii 


Lit 


i  ( 


552 


///r  lldlfVDii  ill   ((iii(i(/(i. 


crrsts  (jf  the  iiujiiiilains,  <it  ( luiiion  sualis.  ImkIIcss,  iiUcrminahlc 
successions  of  llicsc  (unnon-svvaljs,  cacli  just.  lik<:  its  fellow,  (ainc  and 
went,  came  and  \v(;nl,  a.ll  da)'.  Sometimes  we  could  sec  llie  road  a 
mile  or  two  ahead,  and  it  was  as  lonely  and  solitary  as  a  path  in  lh<' 
desert.  l'erio<ls  of  talk  and  soiil;  and  jollil\-  were  succeedoi  hy  lonj( 
stretches  o(  sili:nce.  .\  l)ii(.kl)oar<l  u|>on  such  a  road  does  not  con- 
duce to  a  continuous  tlo\\  ol  animal  spirits.  .\  ^ood  hrace  lor 
th<:  fool  and  a  :_,rood  hold  lor  tli<-  hand  is  one's  niain  lookout  much 
ol  the  time.  We  walked  up  the  stcejicr  hills,  one  ol  ihem  n<-arly 
a  mile  Ioul;.  thcti  (  hmi^  Ljriml)'  to  the  hoard  duriii'^f  ih--  rapid 
descent  ol   th'-  other  sidf. 

We  occasi(mall\  saw  a  solitary  piL;'on — -in  i-\i-r\-  iirtance  a  (ock 
— I'-adiuLj  a  forlorn  lili-  in  the  wood,  a  liirmit  of  hii  kind,  or,  more 
prohahly  a  r'jei  ted  and  su|H:rllu'ius  -naie.  W  '•  (aim-  upon  two  or 
three  hroods  ot  soruc-  L,n-onse  in  t!;<-  road,  so  t.imc  ih.il  one  (tjuld 
ha\i-  kno<:ke(i  tiiiin  o\ir  with  pole-,.  W'c  pas  ,ed  many  h'autilul 
lakes:  amon;.;  oih'rs.  tin-  I  wo  Sisters,  oni  on  i;\.th  .ide  of  the  road. 
At  noon,  wc  paused  at  a  l.ike  in  a  deep  \,ille\'.  ;ind  fed  the  horse  and 
had  lunch.  I  was  urit  lonu;  in  '..;ettintr  re.tdy  m\  lishiniLj  tackle,  and 
u|)on  a  rah  ma<le  ol  two  lo^^s  pinned  to'^ether  lloated  out  upon  the- 
lake  ;ind   (pii<  kl\-   tonk    .ill    the   trout    we  wanted. 

I^arly  in  'he  alternonn,  wc  efih-icd  njto,;  what  is  (,dled  |,;i(jrand 
iirulure,  or  '.real  liurnin;^,  and  to  the  desijjaiion  ot  liviiiLj  woods 
succeeded  the  j^o'eater  desolation  of  a  hlic^hted  fxrest.  .All  th<: 
moimtains  aii<l  \alle\s.  as  far  as  the  eye  (culd  see,  had  |,i  en  swept 
hy  the  fin,  and  the  Ideached  ,uid  ;^hostl_s  sk<'letons  ol  the  tn  es 
alone  met  the  i(az<-.  I  he  lire  had  come  o\er  liom  the  Sav.uenay, 
a  hundred  or  mure  niihs  to  llv  (-ast,  seven  or  ei^ht  years  hefore, 
;ind  had  <  onsuuu  d  or  hl.asted  evcrythint^  in  its  way.  W'e  saw  the 
skull  ol  a  moose  said  to  have  perished  in  the  fnc.  hor  three 
hours  we  rode  throuiL^h  this  v.il|e\'  and  shadow  o(  death.  In  the 
midst  ol  it.  wliere  the  tree,  had  marU  all  di  ,a|)|)eared,  and  where 
the  t^routid  was  nuered  with  ci^arse,  wild  vrass,  we  ( ,ame  u|)on  the 
M.(ranc\  Ki\er,  ,1  pku  id  veljow  stream,  twenty  or  twenty  live  yards 
wide,  .ahoundiiiL,''  with  trout.  We  walked  a  short  distatice  alf)n({  its 
hanks  atid  peered  (uriousK  into  its  waters.  I  he  moutit.ains  on 
either  hand  had  heen  hmavd  |)\  the  tnc  until  in  pkues  their  threat 
^.^ramte  hones  were  han-  and  white. 


'llu    1 1  (I  U  you  in  (  (iiitiiia. 


553 


At  anollicr  point,  w*-  wen:  within  carslioi  tor  a  iiiili;  or  more  of 
a  hrawlin^f  slrcain  in  the  valhn'  \,f\u\\  iis,  ;.ii<l  now  ami  then  (au^lit  a 
j,f|nii|r>e  o(  Ifjaniin^-  rapids  or  (:aM;a'l(:s  tl)!wii;^h  the  ilcnsc  sprtu c, — 
a  trout  stn.ani  tliat  prohabl)'  no  man  iiad  ever  lislicd,  as  it  would  he 
<init<:  impos,iMi:  to  do  so  in  siudi  a  ma/c  and  tan^dc  of  wood. 

\\^:  nritlicr  met  nor  passed  nor  saw  an\  travelers  imlil  late  in 
the  aliernoon.  when  we  desrri<-d,  tar  alif.id,  a  man  on  hor  ^chark. 
it  was  a  welcome  relief.  It  v.  a s  like  a  sail  at  ,e;i.  When  he  saw 
us,  he  ilrrtw  rein  and  awaited  onr  ajiproach,  lie  too,  h.id  prohaMs 
tired  of  the  solitude  a/id  desol.ition  of  the  road.  lie  pro\  ed  i,,  he 
a  yonnL;  <  anadian  ^^oin;^  to  join  the  ^ein-^  ol  workmen  ;it  the  far 
ther  end  ot  the  road. 

Aho'it  lour  o'clock,  we  passed  another  small  lake,  and  in  a  l<:w 
moivients  more  drew  up  at  the  \tr'A'^t-  over  the  Jacfpies  t.arlier  Kiver. 
and  (jur  fort)-  mile  ride  was  tlni  ,hed.  i  here  was  a  stahle  h'  re  that 
had  heen  ii,ed  |,y  ihe  ro.ad  hnilders  and  was  now  ns<-d  hy  the  teams 
thai  hauled  in  their  -supplies.  'i'his  uould  do  |.,r  ihi-  horv  ;  a  sniii; 
lo,i;  shanty,  huilt  hy  an  old  Irapper  and  nnnter  lor  use  in  the  winter, 
a  hundred  \ards  helow  tiie  l,rid;.-e,  .imid  the  spruces  (.n  tin  h.ink  of 
the  ri\e|-,  when  re|)i-dded  and  rehirnished,  wonld  dolor  us.  'ihe  ri\er 
at  this  point  was  ,i  swift.  Mat  1;  stream  Irom  thiit\  to  forty  lei  t  wide, 
with  a  siren,L;th  .and  a  hound  life  a,  moose.  h  \\,|.,  nr,i.  shrunken  .nid 
etnaciated,  like  ,iinilar  streams  in  a  <  h-arerl  (ounlrw  Iml  lull,  cupious. 
and  stronte  indeeil,  one  can  hardl}-  re;iii/e  hou  the  Ic  ,.,(|-  water 
f:ourses  have  snlt'ered  hy  the  denudint;  of  tin  l;md  of  its  lore.t  (o\(r 
\\\'^.  until  he  c'(>es  into  the  jjrimitive  woods  and  sees  how  hounding;  and 
r.Lhletic  they  are  there,  d'hey  ;n-e  literally  well  i.  d  w\  (heir  measure 
of  life  is  full.  In  fact,  a  iroui  l)ror)k  is  ;is  nuK.h  a  i.  .wj^  of  the  uooif. 
as  a  moo,e  or   deer  and  uill  not  thrive  udl  in  the  op'-n  ci;untr\ 

i  hree  mile,  .ihove  our  c.imp  was  <',|-iat  l,ake  |a((|ue,  (  .irtier, 
lh(  source  of  ihr.  ri\er,  a  sheet  of  water  nine  mih-s  |omr  ,in(l  from  one 
to  hree  wide;  |||iy  rod,  Ifclow  wa  ,  l,i!tl'-  i.,d:e  (ac'|ues  (artier,  a.n 
irrcMiilar  hody  a!)out  tv.o  mile.aeroi,,  ,Stre|(  hin',.^  aw;i\  on  i-\i-x\ 
hand,  i)ristlin'.r  on  the  itionntains  and  darkling;  in  tin-  valhys,  w,is  the 
illimit;ili|e  spruce  uood  .  Ihe  mos  in  theni  i  o\ered  the  'o-ound 
nc'arly  knee  de,.p  ;ind  lay  like  neulv  l.illi-n  snow,  hidiie;  ro(  ks  ,ind 
lo'.,;  >,  hlliu"  depre ,,  ,ion  ,,  and  muflliuL',  die  lorj),  \\  !ien  ii  vasdrw  one 
could  find  a  most  deli;diltiil  (  oik  h  an\ where. 


.%\ 


M 


554 


The  Ilakvon  iit  i'ainnhi. 


m 


I 


h! 


I 


1 

I 

1' 

1         .             1     ' 

ul 


i  I^ 


The  spruce;  seems  to  liuvi;  colored  tlie  \v;iter,  wliich  is  a  dark 
amhcr  color,  Ijiit  eiuirely  swccl  and  pure.  I'luM'e  needed  no  I)ettcr 
proof  of  tile  latter  fact  than  the  trout  with  whicli  it  aJjounded  and 
their  clear  anti  vivid  tints.  In  its  low(;r  portions,  near  the  St.  Law- 
rence;, th(;  Jac(|U(;s  Carli(;r  kiv<;r  is  a  salmon  stream  ;  hut  these;  fish 
hav(;  iiev(;r  bet;n  found  as  near  its  source  as  we  w(;re.  thou^di  there 
is  no  apparent  reason  why  they  should  not  Ix;. 

'I'hen;  is,  p(;rliaps,  no  m()m(;nt  in  tli(;  lift;  of  an  ant^ler  fraught  with 
so  much  eajrcrncss  and  impati(;nc(;  as  when  he  first  fmds  himself  upon 
th(;  hank  of  a  n(;w  and  loni^-soui^dit  str<;am.  When  I  was  a  hoy  and 
us(;d  to  L,ro  a-fishiuL;-,  I  could  s(;ld()m  restrain  my  ea^ern(;ss  aft(;r  1 
arrived  in  sis^dit  of  the  hrook  or  pond,  and  must  ne(;ds  run  the  rest  of 
the  way.  rii(;n  the  dela\-  in  riL,''.L,dniL(  m\'  tacklt;  was  a  trial  my  paticnc' 
was  n(;v(;r  <|uit(;  e([ual  to.  After  I  had  ma<l(;  a  f(;w  casts,  or  had  cai  ^ul 
on<;  fish,  I  could  pause;  and  adjust  my  lint;  ])roperly.  1  found  souk; 
remnant  of  the  old  enthusiasm  still  in  \w:  when  I  sprang  Irom  the 
huckhoard  that  afternoon  and  saw  the  strani:,^-  ri\<;r  rushing-  hy. 
I  would  hav(;  i^dv(;n  som(;thini^r  il  my  tackh;  had  heen  rit^^roed  so  that  I 
could  ha\e  tri(;d  on  tlu;  instant  tin;  lem|)er  of  tli(;  trout  that  had  just 
hroken  the  surfaci;  within  easy  n;acli  of  the  shore.  I)Ul  I  had  antici- 
pated this  moment  comiui^r  alouL^,  and  had  surreptitiously  undone 
m\-  rod-cas(;  and  fol  m\-  r(;(;l  out  of  m\-  hair,  and  was  therefon;  a  few 
moments  ahead  of  my  companion  in  makini.^'-  th(;  iirst  cast.  The; 
trout  rose;  readiK'  ;  and,  almost  too  soon,  w(;  had  mon;  than  enout,di 
for  dinn(;r,  tiioui^di  no  "  rod-smaslu;rs"  had  h(;(;n  ^cen  or  felt.  Our 
c;.\p(;ri<;nce  tlu;  n(;.\t  morniniL,^  and  durint(  th(;  day,  and  the  n(;.\t 
morni!!!.,^  in  the  lake,  in  the  rapids,  in  the  pools,  was  ahout  th(;  same; 
th(;ri;  was  a  surfi  li.  of  trout  (;iL;lu  or  ten  inch(;s  lonij,  thoui^h  we  rar(;ly 
kept  any  und(;r  ten  ;  hut  the  \)\'^  fish  w(;re  lazy  and  would  not  rise  ; 
th(;\'  wen;  in  th(;  de(;p(;st  wiiter,  and  did  not  lik(;  to  i^ct  up. 

The  third  day,  in  the  aft(;rnoon,  we  ha<l  our  first  and  f)nl\  thor- 
ouL,di  s(;nsati()n  in  the  sha|)e  of  a  \i'v^  tro  it.  It  came  none  too  soon. 
TIk;  int(;rest  had  heL;un  to  llat,^  I'Ut  oiie  hi^'  lish  a  \\;';k  will  do. 
It  is  a  i)innacl(;  of  delioht  in  tht;  angler's  (;.\p(;rien(c  that  he  may 
w(;ll  lie  three  da\s  in  working-  up  to,  and,  once;  reached,  it  is  thnt; 
days  down  to  th(;  old  humdrum  level  aL^^ain.  .At  I'.ast,  it  is  with  iik;. 
It  was  a  dull,  rainy  day;  tin;  fo^r  rest(;(l  low  upon  the;  mountains,  and 
the  tiuK;  hun;(  heavilv  upon  our  hands,    .\hout  thfee    /clock,  the  rain 


The  Ilakvoii  in  Cauada. 


555 


ly  im|)r(:ssK)ii, 


slackened  and  \\v.  v.mv.Y^vx\  from  our  den,  Joe  .L^oini,'-  lo  look  after  his 
horse,  which  had  eaten  hut  little  since  comintr  into  the  woods,  the 
poor  creature  .vas  so  disturbed  hy  the  lonelin<;ss  and  the  black  flies; 
I  to  make  preparations  for  dinne-r,  while  my  companion  lazily 
tf)ok  his  rod  and  ste|)ped  to  the  vx\<rr.  of  the  bit^  ])(jol  in  front  of  the 
cam]).  At  the  first  introductory  cast,  and  when  his  Hy  was  not 
fifteen  fe(;t  from  him  upon  the  water,  th(;rc  was  a  hms^rc-  and  a 
strik<;,  and  apparently  the  fisherman  had  hooked  a  IjowKler.  I 
was  standint^-  a  few  )ards  be-low,  cn^a^ed  in  washiniL;  out  thi- 
coffee  pail,   when   I   heard  him  call  out: 

'■  I  have  L^ot  him  now  !" 

"  Yes,  I  see  you  have,"  said  I,  noticim,^  his  bendiuL,''  Jjole  and 
mo\<less   line;    "when  I  am  throuL(li,   I  will  help  ynu  L;"et  loose." 

"  \o;   but  I'm  not  joking-,"  said  he  ;    "  I  have  t^rot  a  bij^-  fish." 

I   looked   up  attain,  but  saw  no  reason  lo  chauL^c   ni\ 
and  kept  on  with  my  work. 

it  is  proper  to  say  that  m)-  companion  was  a  novice  at  ilN-fishiui^, 
he  nc\<;r  havini^-  cast  a  fly  till  upon  this  trip. 

Attain  he  calh^l  out  to  me  ;  but,  deccnved  by  his  cooliu;ss  and  non- 
ch.alant  toiu;s,  and  by  tin;  lethar<ry  of  the  fish,  I  <^a\v  little  heed.  I 
knew  very  well  tli.ii  if  I  had  struck  a  fish  that  he-ld  me  down  in  that 
wa)-,  I  should  ha\(;  be(;n  ;^oinL(  through  a  reL,ailar  war-dance  on  that 
circle  of  bowlder-tops,  and  should  have  scared  ilu;  ,^am(  inln  acti\ily, 
if  the  hook  had  filled  to  wake  him  up.  Ihil  as  the  farce  Cdiitiiiued,  I 
drew  near. 

"  Does  that  look  like  a  stone  or  a  lot;  ?"  said  m\  fri.'iid,  pointing;- 
to  his  ([uiverin.if  line,  slowly  cutting-  the  current  up  low;ird  tin  center 
of  tlu;  pool. 

.My  skepticism  vanished  in  an  instant,  and  I  could  hardly  keep 
my  place  on  the  top  of  the  rock. 

"  I  can  feel  him  breallie,"  said  the  now  warmiiiL^  fisherman  ;  "just 
feel  of  that  pole." 

1  |)ut  my  e;i;ji  r  hand  upon  tin;  butt,  and  (ould  lasily  imai^-ine  I 
felt  the  throb  or  p.iiit  of  somethini^r  aljvc  down  tjiere  in  the  black 
depths.  i)ul  whate\er  it  w;is  moved  .iboiit  like  ,l  turtle.  .My  com- 
panion was  pra_\ini_;  lo  hear  his  reel  spin,  but  il  ,L;a\-e  out  iiou  and 
then  only  ,i  few  hesitatim^^  clicks.  .SiiJI,  the  situation  \\;is  e.\ciiinL(l\ 
dramatic,  and  we  wire  all  actors.      1  rushed  lor  the  l,,ndinL;-net,  but 


I  ,i 


I 


t      i. 


:*:;■! 


:l    I 


'Tir. 


'^  I 


¥ 


11; 


%  I 


it 


lit 


1' . 


w   I 


i      1 


55^J 


'///r  I  lull  von  ill   Caiidcid. 


hciiiL;  imahh-  lo  liiid  it,  shoiilcd  (Icspciatfl)  lor  Joe,  who  cainc  liur- 
ryinj4  hack,  i-xcilcd  liclorc  lie  had  Icaiiicd  what  ihc  inatlcr  was. 
'IIk;  net  had  Ihcm  Idt  at  the  hike  hdow  and  iiiusl  l)c  had  with  ihc 
greatest  <lis|)at(h.  In  tlic  mcaiiliinc,  I  skipped  ahr)iit  liom  liovvldcr  lo 
howldcr  as  llic  lish  worked  this  way  or  thai  al)oiil  the  |)ool,  peering 
into  the  water  to  catch  a  J4hin|)s<-  of  him,  lor  he  had  Itei^nn  to  yield 
a  little  to  the  stitady  strain  thai  was  ki'pt  upon  him.  I'resenlly  I  saw 
a  sh.idowy,  unsnlistantial  somelhinj;  just  emerLjc  h-om  tin-  Mack 
depths,  then  vanish.  'I'lien  I  s.iw  it  aj^ain,  and  this  lime  tiie  hii,i;c 
projiortions  ol  the  lish  were  faintly  oiitlin<'d  1)\  the  white  fac  inL;s  ol 
his  lins,  The  sketch  Listed  Imt  a  IwinklinM;  it  was  onl)  a  Ilitlini4 
shadow  upon  a  d.irker  lia(  ki.;i'oHnd,  Imt  it  '^aw  me  the  prolomidest 
Ike  Walton  thrill  I  ever  experienced.  I  had  lieen  a  lisher  from  niy 
e.irliesl  l)o\hood;  1  came  Irom  a  race  ol  lislx'rs ;  tron!  streams 
<4MriL;led  alioiit  the  roots  ol  the  iamily  tree,  and  llxre  was  a  lon^ 
accumiilateil  and  lransmitte<l  tendenc  \  and  desire  in  me  that  that 
sii^ht  ^fatilied.  I  did  not  wiih  the  pole  in  m\()\\n  hands;  there 
was(|Mite  enough  el((tri(ity  overflowing  from  it  and  Idling;  the  air 
lor  me.  I  he  lish  viidih'd  more  and  more  to  the  relentless  pole,  till 
in  aliont  lilleen  minutes  Irom  the  lime  he  was  struck,  he  (  ame  to  the 
siirlaci',  then  ma<le  a  little  whirlpool  where  he  disappeared  ai^ain. 
Hilt  presently  he  was  up  a  second  tiiix'  and  lashint;  the  water  into 
loam  as  th<'  amder  le<l  him  toward  the  rock  ii|)on  which  1  was 
perc  h<(l,  net  ill  haml.  .\s  I  reached  toward  him,  down  lu  went 
a^ain,  and,  taking;  anollxr  cin  le  ol  the  pool,  (ame  up  still  more 
exhausted,  when,  lielween  his  paro.xysins,  I  careliilly  ran  the  net  over 
him  and  lilted  him  ashore,  ami<l,  il  is  needless  to  s.i),  the  wildest 
enthusiasm  ol  the  spectators.  The  conL;ratulator\  laiiiditer  of  the 
loons  down  on  the  Like  show<'d  how  even  the  outsiders  s)  inpalhi/ed. 
Much  lar^rcr  trout  have  been  taken  in  these;  waters  and  in  ollxrs, 
bill  this  lish  would  have  swallowed  any  three  \\r  had  ever  hd'ore 
cau^lit. 

"What  does  he  u<'inh.''  was  the  natiir.il  in(|iiir\  ol  each;  and 
we  took  turns  "heltiii^"  him.  lint  t^ravity  was  less  potent  to  us 
just  then  than  usual,  ;ind  the  lish  seemed  .istonishinnly  li^ht. 

■'  I'Oiir  |)ounds,"  we  saiil  ;  but  |oe  said  more.  ,So  \\c  improvised 
a  scale.  ,\  lonu;  strip  of  board  was  balanced  across  a  sti<  k,  and  our 
j^roccries  s(;rv<;d  as  w(;i^hts.     .\  lour  |)oiiii(l  packa.L;c  ol  su^ar  ki(k(;d 


i 


■•  '• 


/kc  Halcyon  in  ( (UKuhi. 


5S7 


tlir  hcam  (|iii(  kly  ;  ;i  pound  of  cofTcc  was  added;  slill  it  ucni  np  ; 
llicii  a  pound  of  lea,  and  still  the  (isli  had  a  lilllc  the  l)«:sl  of  it.  I'.in 
W(;  called  it  six  pounds,  n(-!  to  drive  too  sharp  a  hari^ain  with  fortune, 
and  was  more  than  satisfied.  Stjch  a  heantifiil  creature!  uiark<d  in 
every  respect  like  a  trout  of  six  .uclies.  VVe  feasted  oiu-  eyes  upon 
hini  lor  half  an  hour.  We  sintched  him  upon  the  ^rouu<l  and 
admired  him;  vv(-  laid  him  across  a  loj.^  and  withdrew  a  few  paces 
and  admired  him;  we  hunj^^  him  against  the  shanty  and  turned  our 
heads  Ironi  side  to  side  as  women  do  when  lhe\  are  sejec  till"  drcss- 
j,n)ods,  the  helter  to  take  in  the  lull  force  of  the  effect. 

lie  i^raced  the  hoard,  or  stump,  that  afternoon  and  was  the 
sweetest  fish  we  had  taken.  The  llesh  was  a  deep  salmon  (  olor  and 
very  rich.  We  hail  helore  discovered  that  then'  wen-  two  \ari<iies 
ol  troui  in  these  wat<rs,  irres|(ecti\c  of  si/e,  —  the  red  Heshed  and 
the  white  lleshed,  —  and  that  the  lormer  were  hest. 

I  his  success  L',av<-  an  impetus  to  our  sport  that  carried  us  throii^di 
the  rest  oi  the  week  finely.  We  had  demonstrated  that  there  were 
1)1^-  trout  lure,  and  that  they  would  rise  to  .i  lly.  I  hiu  .  forth,  hiy, 
lish  were  looked  to  ;is  a  possiMe  result  of  e\ery  < m  ursion.  To  me, 
espe  iaily,  the  desire  to  at  least  mal(  h  my  i ompanioii,  who  had  heen 
my  pupil  in  liie  art,  was  keen  and  constant.  We  iiuilt  a  rait  ol  loi's 
and  upon  it  I  Moated  out  upon  the  kike,  whippiii'j  its  waters  riidit 
and  lelt,  morniiit;,  imon,  and  niidit.  Many  fine  in<ut  (,ime  i,,  uiy 
hand,  and  were  re|ease(|  het  ;ius(    they  did  not  fill  the  hill. 

I  he    lake    hecaine    my  favorite    nsort,   while    my   companion    pre 
lerred  rather  the  shore  or  the  lont^,  still  pool  .ihove,  where  there  was 
a  rude  make  shift  ol  a  hoat,  made  uf  (ommon  hox   hoards. 

I 'poll  the  lake,  )()ii  had  the  wildness  and  solitude  at  arm',  leniali 
and  ( oiild  l)(;ller  take  their  look  and  measure.  You  hecame  some 
tiling  apart  from  them;  you  einer,!.^ed  and  had  a  vantage  !.;rouii(l  like 
that  of  ,1  mountain  peak,  and  could  (  ontemplate  them  ,it  sour  ease. 
Seated  upon  my  r.ilt,  .ind  slowly  (  arried  hy  the  (  iirrent  uv  drifted  hy 
ihe  liree/e,  |  had  many  a  Ioiil;.  silent  look  iiil(,  the  face  r)f  the  wilder 
iiess,  and  found  llu'  ((immimion  i^ood.  I  was  alone  with  the  spirit 
'if  the  forest  lioiind  lakes  and  felt  its  presence  and  mat^netism.  I 
playeil  hide  and  seek  with  it  ahoiit  the  nooks  and  corneis,  and  lav  in 
\\;iil  lor  it  upon  ,i  little  iskiiul,  crowned  with  a  ehimp  of  trees,  that 
was  moorc'd   just  to  one  side   the   t  urrent    iie.ir  ihe  he.id  of   the  lake. 


1^ 

tiii, 


V 


5i    3  ' 


'!    M 


i'i/ 


I   r 


\^L 


558 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


V      i, 


I 


Indeed,  there  is  no  depth  of  soHtude  that  tlic  mind  does  not  endow 
with  some  human  interest.  A'^  in  a  dead  silence  the  ear  is  filled  with 
its  own  murmur,  so  amid  these  aboriginal  scenes  one's  feelings  and 
sympathies  become  external  to  him,  as  it  were,  and  he  holds  con- 
verse with  them.  Then  a  lake  is  the  ear  as  well  as  the  eye  of  a 
forest.  It  is  the  place  to  go  to  listen  and  ascertain  what  sounds 
are  abroad  in  the  air.  They  all  run  quickly  thither  and  report.  If 
any  creature  had  called  in  the  forest  for  miles  about  I  should  have 
heard  it.  At  times,  I  could  hear  the  distant  roar  of  water  off  Ijeyond 
the  outlet  of  the  lake.  The  sound  of  the  vagrant  winds  purring  here 
and  there  in  the  tops  of  the  spruces  reached  my  ear.  A  breeze 
would  come  slowly  down  the  mountain,  then  strike  the  lake,  and  I 
could  see  its  footsteps  approaching,  by  the  changed  appearance  of  the 
water.  How  slowly  the  winds  move  at  times,  sauntering  like  one 
on  a  Sunday  walk  !  A  breeze  always  enlivens  the  fish  ;  a  dead  calm, 
and  all  pennants  sink  ;  your  activity  with  your  fly  is  ill-tinu;tl,  and 
you  soon  take  the  hint  and  stop.  Becalmed  upon  my  raft,  I  observed, 
as  I  have  often  done  before,  that  the  life  of  nature  ebbs  and  flows, 
comes  and  departs,  in  these  wilderness  .scenes  ;  one  moment  her  stage 
is  thronged  and  the  next  quite  deserted.  Then  there  is  a  wonderful 
unity  of  movement  in  the  two  elements,  air  and  water.  When  there 
is  much  going  on  in  one,  there  is  cjuite  sure  to  be  much  going  on  in 
the  other.  You  have  been  casting,  perhaps,  for  an  hour  with  scarcely 
a  jump  or  any  sign  of  life  anywhere  about  you,  when  presently  the 
breeze  freshens,  and  the  trout  begin  to  respond,  and  then  of  a  sudden 
all  the  performers  rush  in  ;  ducks  come  sweeping  by,  loons  laugh  and 
wheel  overliead,  then  approach  the  water  on  a  long,  gentle  incline, 
plowing  deeper  and  deeper  into  its  surface  until  their  momentum  is 
arrested  or  converted  into  foam  ;  the  fish-hawk  screams,  the  ])ald 
eagle  goes  flapping  by,  and  your  eyes  and  hands  are  full.  Then  liie 
tide  ebbs,  and  both  fish  and  fowl  are  gone. 

Patiently  whipping  the  waters  of  the  lake  from  my  rude  float, 
I  became  an  obj-ct  of  great  interest  to  the  loons.  I  hud  never 
seen  these  birds  before  in  their  proper  habitat,  and  the  interest 
was  mutual.  When  they  had  paused  on  the;  Hudson  during  th(;ir 
spring  and  fall  migrations,  I  had  pursued  them  in  my  boat  to  try 
to  get  near  them.  Now  the  case  was  reversed  ;  I  was  the  inter- 
loper now,  and   they  would  come  out  and   study  me.     Sometimes 


ill 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


559 


six  or  ei^rht  of  thcin  would  be  swimiiiiiijr  about  vvatchinjf  my 
movements,  but  they  were  wary  and  made  a  wide  circle.  One 
day,  one  of  their  number  vohmteenrd  to  make  a  thorough  recon- 
noissance.  I  saw  him  leave  his  comrades  and  swim  straight  toward 
me.  He  came,  bringing  first  one  eye  to  bear  upon  me,  then  the 
other.  When  about  half  the  distance  was  passed  over,  he  began  to 
waver  and  hesitate.  To  encourage;  him  I  stopped  casting,  and  taking 
off  my  hat,  began  to  wave  it  slowly  to  and  fro,  as  in  thi;  act  of  fanning 
myself.  This  started  him  again, — this  was  a  n<;w  trait  in  the  creat- 
ure that  he  must  scrutinize  mon;  closely.  On  he  came,  till  all  his 
markings  wen;  distinctly  si;en.  With  one  hand  I  pulled  a  little 
revolver  from  my  hip  |)ockel,  and  wh(;n  tiie  loon  was  about  fifty 
yards  distant  and  had  begun  to  sidh;  around  me,  1  fireil.  At  the 
flash  I  saw  two  webb'jd  fe(;t  twinkh;  in  the  air,  and  the  loon  was 
gone  !  Lead  could  not  have  gone  down  so  (juickly.  The  bullet  cut 
across  the  circl(;s  whc;re  h(;  disappeared.  In  a  f(;w  moments  he  re-ap- 
peared a  couple  of  hundred  yards  away.  "  Ha-ha-ha-a-a,"  said  he  ; 
"  ha-ha-ha-a-a"  and  "  ha-ha-ha-aa,"  said  his  comrades,  who  had 
been  looking  on;  and  "ha-ha-ha-a-a,"  said  we  all,  echo  included. 
He  approached  a  second  time,  but  not  so  closely,  and  when  1  began 
to  creep  back  toward  the  shore  with  my  heavy  craft,  |)awing  the 
water  first  upon  one  sick;,  then  the  other,  lu;  followed,  and  with 
ironical  laughter  witnc;ss(;d  my  efforts  to  st(;m  the  current  at  the 
head  of  the  lak(;.  I  confess  it  was  enough  to  make  a  more  solemn 
bird  than  the  loon  laugh  ;  but  it  was  no  fun  for  me,  and  generally 
required  my  last  jiound  of  st(;am. 

The  loons  flew  back  and  forth  from  one  lake  to  the  other,  and 
their  voices  were  about  the  only  notable  wild  sounds  to  Ik;  heard. 

One  afternoon,  (|uite  une.xpectedly,  I  struck  my  big  fish,  in  the 
head  of  the  lake.  I  was  first  advis(;d  of  his  approach  by  two  or 
three  trout  jumping  clear  from  the  water  to  get  out  of  his  lord- 
ship's way.  The  water  was  not  deep  just  there,  and  he  swam  so 
near  the  surface  that  his  enormous  l)ack  cut  through.  With  a  swirl 
he  swept  my  fly  under  and  turned.  My  hook  was  too  near  home, 
and  my  rod  too  near  a  p(;rpendicular,  to  strike  well.  Mon;  than  that, 
my  presence  of  mind  came  n(;ar  being  unhorsed  by  the  sudden 
apparition  of  the  fish.  If  I  could  have  had  a  moment's  notice,  or 
if  I  had   not  seen  the  monster,  I   should  have  fared  better  and  the 


: 


1 


:\ 


wr: 


> 


i:i: 


i 


teh 


il 


'•  if 

•■' '     '  •-'  1 

i  '•  i'l 

1 

MJ 

t 

ft: 

1         1 

560 


77/^'  Halcvon  m  Canada. 


fish  worse.  I  struck,  but  not  with  enouj^-h  decision,  and  hcfori;  1 
could  reel  up,  my  empty  hook  came  back.  The  trout  had  carried  it 
in  his  jaws  till  the  fraud  was  detected  and  then  spat  it  out.  He 
came  a  second  time,  and  made  a  j^'rand  commotion  in  the  water, 
but  not  in  my  nerves,  for  I  was  ready  then,  but  failed  to  take  the 
fly  and  so  to  j^^et  his  weijj^ht  and  beauty  in  these  pages.  As  my 
luck  failed  me  at  the  last,  I  will  place  my  loss  at  the  full  extent  of 
the  law,  and  claim  that  nothin*;-  less  than  a  ten-pounder  was  spirited 
away  from  mj-  hand  that  da)'.  1  might  not  hav(;  saved  him,  netless 
as  I  was  upon  my  cumbrous  raft ;  but  I  should  at  least  have  had 
the  glory  of  the  fight  and  the  consolation  of  the  fairl)'  vancjuished. 

These  trout  are  not  properly  lake-trout,  but  the  common  brook- 
trout  ( S.  lumtanalis ).  The  largest  ones  art:  taken  with  li\e  bait 
through  the  ice  in  winter.  The  Indians  anil  the  hahilaiis  bring 
them  out  of  the  wood  from  here  and  from  Snow  Lake  on  their 
toboggans,  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  feet  long.  They  have 
kinks  and  ways  of  their  own.  About  half  a  mile  above  cam]),  we 
discovered  a  tleep  oval  bay  to  one  side  the  main  current  of  the  river, 
that  evidently  abounded  in  big  fish.  Here  ihey  disported  them- 
selv(!s.  It  was  a  favorite  feeding-grounil,  and  late  every  afternoon 
the  fish  rose  all  ai)out  it,  making  those  big  ripples  the  angler  delights 
to  see.  A  trout,  when  he  comes  to  the  surface,  starts  a  ring  about 
his  own  length  in  diameter  ;  most  of  the  rings  in  the  pool,  when 
the  eye  caught  them,  were  like  barrel-hoops,  but  the  haughty  trout 
ignored  all  our  best  efforts  ;  not  one  rise  did  we  get.  We  were 
told  of  this  pool  on  our  return  to  Quebec,  and  that  other  angh.rs 
had  a  similar  e.xperience  there.  But  occasionally  some  old  fisher- 
man, like  a  great  advocate  who  loves  a  difficult  case,  would  set  his 
wits  to  work  and  bring  into  camp  an  enormous  trout  taken  there. 

I  had  been  told  in  Ouebec  that  I  would  not  see  a  bird  in  the 
woods,  not  a  feather  of  any  kind.  But  I  knew  I  should,  though 
they  were  not  numerous.  I  saw  and  heard  a  bird  nearly  every  day 
on  ti  '  tops  of  the  trees  about,  that  I  think  was  one  of  the  cross-bills. 
The  kmgfisher  was  there  ahead  of  us  with  his  loud  clicking  reel. 
The  osprey  was  there,  too,  and  I  saw  him  abusing  the  bald  eagle,  who 
had  probably  just  robbed  him  of  a  fish.  The  yellow-rumped  warbler 
I  saw,  and  one  of  the  kinglets  was  leading  its  lisping  brood  about 
through  the  spruces.     In  e\ery  opening,  the  white-throated  sparrow 


V 

■ 

i 

■-   1 

i. 

; 

.<  jH 

\ 

IV 

'?l:i  : 

'Jlic  //(i/cvoii  in  Cniindn. 


56f 


HAWK    AND    KIN(;i)lKD. 


abounded,  striking  up  his  clear,  sweet  whistle  at  times  so  loud  and 
sudden  that  one's  momentary  impression  was  that  some  farm-hoy 
was  approaching  or  was  secreted  there  behind  the  logs.  Many 
times,  amid  those  primitive  solitudes,  I  was  {|uite  startled  by  the 
human  tone  and  quality  of  this  whistle.  It  is  little  more  than  a 
beginning;  the  bird  never  seems  to  finish  the  strain  suggested. 
The  Canada  jay  was  there  also,  very  busy  about  some  important 
private  matter. 

One  lowery  morning  as  I  was  standing  in  camp,  I  saw  a  lot  of 
ducks  borne  swiftly  down  by  the  current  around  the  bend  in  the 
river  a  few  rods  above.  They  saw  me  at  the  same  instant  and 
turned  toward  the  shore.  On  hastening  up  there,  I  found  the  old 
bird  rapidly  leading  her  nearl)-  grown  brood  through  the  woods,  as 
^,6 


\\ 


I  li 


11 


m 


M 


■)  ( 


:l|l! 


i^. 


■'■  II  ' 


li 


IN   I. 

ri 


I': 

■  il  ■ 


562 


77/<'  11  ale  von  iii  Canada. 


if  to  JlJo  around  our  cam]).  As  I  pursued  tlu'in,  tlicy  ran  squawkinjLr 
with  oulstri'tchcd  stiihhy  wiiij^s,  scattcrinj,'  ri.^lit  and  Ic-ft,  and  si:cl;- 
ing  a  liidinj^f-platc  under  the  loirs  ami  I'.ehris.  I  capturi-d  one  and 
carried  it  into  camp.  It  was  just  what  Joe  wanted  ;  it  would  make 
a  valuahle  decoy.  So  lu'  kept  it  in  a  box,  fed  it  upon  oats,  and  took 
it  out  of  the  woods  v.ith  him. 

We  fouml  the  camp  we  liad  appropriated  was  a  favoriti:  stopping- 
place  of  tin;  carmen  who  haulid  in  supplies  for  the  .^anjj^  of  two 
hundred  road-huilders.  One  rainy  day,  near  nij^dit-fall,  no  li'ss  than 
cij^ht  carts  ilrew  up  at  the  okl  stable,  and  the  rain-soakeil  ilrivers, 
after  jjicketin;;  and  feeilintr  their  horses,  came  down  to  our  fire.  We 
were  awa\',  and  Joe  met  us  on  our  return  with  the  unwelcome  news. 
We  kept  open  house  so  far  as  the  fire  was  concerned  ;  hut  our  roof 
was  a  narrow  one  at  the  best,  and  one  or  two  leaky  spots  made  it 
still  narrower. 

"  We  shall  probably  sleep  out-of-doors  to-ni<,dit,"  said  my  com- 
panion, "unless  we  are  a  match  for  this  posse  of  rouii^h  teamsters." 

Hut  the  men  proxeil  to  be  much  more  peaceabl)-  disposed  than 
the  same  class  at  home  ;  they  a])ologized  for  intruilinjr,  pleadinj^  the 
inclemency  of  the  w(;ather,  ami  were  (piite  willint,^,  with  our  permis- 
sion, to  take  up  with  pot-luck  about  the  fire  and  leave  us  the  shanty. 
They  dried  their  clothes  upon  poles  and  lot^s,  and  had  their  fun  and 
their  banterinjL;'  amid  it  all.  An  Irishman  amon<f  them  did  about  the 
only  growling;' ;  he  invited  himself  into  our  (juarters,  and  before 
morninjr  had  Joe's  blanket  about  him   in  acUlition  to  his  own. 

On  Friday,  we  made  an  e.xcursion  to  Cireat  Lake  Jaccpies  Cartier, 
paddlin<r  and  poling-  up  the  river  in  the  rude  box-boat.  It  was  a 
bright,  still  morning  after  the  rain,  and  everything  had  a  new,  fresh 
appearance.  Expectation  was  ever  on  tiptoe,  as  each  turn  in  the 
river  opened  a  new  prospect  before  us.  How  wild  and  shaggy  and 
silent  it  was  !  What  fascinating  pools,  what  tempting  stretches  of 
trout-haunted  water !  Now  and  thcMi  we  would  catch  a  glimpse  of 
long  black  shadows  starting  awaj-  from  the  boat  and  shooting  through 
the  sunlit  depths ;  but  no  sound  or  motion  on  .shore  was  heard  or 
seen.  Near  the  lake  we  came  to  a  long,  shallow  rapid,  when  we 
pulled  off  our  shoes  and  stockings,  and,  with  our  trowsers  rolled  up 
above  our  knees,  towed  the  boat  up  it,  wincing  and  cringing  amid 
the  sharp,  slippery  stones.   With  benumbed  feet  and  legs,  we  reached 


riw  I lalcvoii  in  (  aiunhi. 


563 


ON    iiii;    WAV    lu    Till;   kivt.k. 


the  still  water  that  forms  the  stem  of  the  lake,  and  presently  saw  the 
arms  of  the  wilderness  open  and  the  lonjf,  deep-blue  expanse  in  their 
embrace.  We  rested  and  bathed,  and  gladdened  our  eyes  with  the 
singularly  beautiful  prospect.  The  shadows  of  summer  clouds  were 
slowly  creeping  up  and  down  the  sides  of  the  mountains  that  hemmed 
it  in.      On  the  far  eastern  shore,  near  the  head,  banks  of  what  was 


"»i 


* 


ii!- 


'i  j  ■ 

:.'•' 

I   {! 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


''^  IIIM 


>iS    112.0 


Li 

lA.  11.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  US80 

(716)  873-4503 


lO' 


iV 


Cv 


^' 


N> 


6^ 


,<' 


/£ 


t/. 


.<p 


I!.  ; 
\\]  '. 

liii 


i 


i'i 


564 


T/w  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


ALUNU    TIIK    HL'DSON. 


doubtless  white  sand  shone  dimly  in  the 

sun,  and   the   illusion  that   there  was  a 

town    nestled    there   haunted   my    mind 

constantly.     It  was  like  a  section  of  the 

Hudson     below     the    Hiirhlands,    except 

that  these  waters  were  bluer  and  colder, 

and  these  shores  darker  than  even  Sir  Hendrick  first  looked  upon  ; 

but  surely,  one  felt,  a  steamer  will  round  that  point  presently,  or  a 

sail  drift  into  view !     W^e  paddled  a  mile  or  more  up  the  east  shore, 

then  across  to  the  west,  and  found  such  pleasure  in  simply  j^azing 

upon  the  scene  that  our  rods  were  quite  neglected.      We  did  some 

casting  after  awhile,  but  raised   no  fish  of  any  consequence  till  we 

were  in  the  outlet  again,   when   they  responded  so  freely  that  the 

"  disgust  t)f  trout "  was  soon  upon  us. 

.At  the  rapids,  on  our  return,  as  I  was  standing  to  my  knees  in 
the  swift,  cold  current  and  casting  into  a  deep  hole  behind  a  huge 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


565 


bi)wlder  that  rose  four  or  five  fuct  abovi;  the  water  amid -stream,  two 
trout,  one  of  tliem  a  hirj^e  one.  took  my  flies ;  and  hndinj^  the  fish 
and  the  current  united  too  strong  for  m\  tackle,  1  sought  to  gain  the 
top  of  the  l)owlder.  in  which  attempt  1  got  wet  to  my  middle  and 
lost  my  fish.  After  I  had  gained  the  rock,  1  could  not  get  away 
again  with  my  clothes  on  without  swimming  ;  which,  to  say  nothing 
of  wet  garments  the  rest  of  the  way  home,  1  did  not  like  to  *lo  amiil 
those  rocks  and  swift  currents;  so.  after  a  vain  attempt  to  communi- 
cate with  my  comp  inion  above  tiie  roar  of  th«'  water.  1  removeil  my 
clothing,  left  them  together  with  my  tackle  upon  the  rock,  and  by  a 
strong  effort  stemmed  the  current  and  reached  the  shore.  Tiie  boat 
was  a  hundriid  yards  above,  and  when  I  arrived  there  m\  teeth  were 
chattering  with  the  cold,  my  feet  were  numb  with  bruises,  and  the 
black  flies  were  making  thi;  blood  stream  down  my  back.  We 
hastened  back  with  the  iioat,  antl  by  wading  out  into  the  current 
again  and  holding  it  by  a  long  rope,  it  swung  around  with  my 
companion  aboard,  and  was  held  in  the  eddy  behind  tiie  rock.  I 
clambered  up,  got  my  clothes  on,  and  we  were  soon  shooting  down- 
stream toward  home  ;  i)ut  the  winter  of  discontent  that  shrouded  one- 
half  of  me  made  sad  inroads  upon  the  placid  feeling  of  a  day  well 
spent  that  enveloped  the  otlier.  all  the  waj'  to  camp. 

That  night  something  carried  off  all  our  fish, — doubtless  a  fisher 
or  lyn.x.  as  Joe  had  seen  an  animal  of  some  kind  about  camp  that  day. 

I  must  not  forget  the  two  red  s(iuirrels  that  fre(|uented  the  camp 
during  our  sta>',  and  that  were  so  tame  they  would  approach  within  a 
few  feet  of  us  and  take  the  pieces  of  bread  or  fish  tossed  to  them. 

When  a  particularly  fine  piece  of  hard-tack  was  secured,  they 
would  spin  off  to  their  den  with  it  somewhere  near  by. 

Caribou  abound  in  these  woods,  but  we  saw  only  their  tracks ; 
and  of  bears,  which  are  said  to  be  plentiful,  we  saw  no  signs. 

Saturday  morning,  we  packed  up  our  traps  and  started  on  our 
return,  and  found  that  the  other  side  of  the  spruce-trees  and  the 
vista  of  the  lonel)'  road  going  south  were  about  the  same  as  coming 
north.  Hut  we  untlerstood  the  road  better  anil  the  buckboard  l)et- 
ter,  and  our  load  was  lighter,  hence  the  distance  was  easi(T  accom- 
plished. 

I   saw  a  solitary  robin    by  the    road-side,  and   wondered  what' 
could    have    brought   this   social    and   half-domesticated  bird  so  far 
36A 


w\ 


u 


566 


T/ic  Hale  von  in  Canada. 


into  these:  wikls.  In  La  Cirand  Mruliiro  a  hermit-thrush  pcrclicd 
upon  a  dry  tree  in  a  swampy  phicc  and  sanjf  most  divinely.  We 
paused  to  Hsten  to  his  clear,  silvery  strain,  poured  out  without  stint 
upon  that  unlisteninjf  solitude.  I  was  half  persuaded  I  had  heard 
him  before  on  first  enterinj^  the  wooils. 

We  nooned  a^ain  at  No  Man's  Inn,  on  the  banks  of  a  trout 
lake,  and  fared  well  and  had  no  reckoninjf  to  pay.  Late  in  the 
afternoon,  we  saw  a  lonely  peilestrian  lahorinj^  up  a  hill  far  ahead 
of  us.  When  he  heard  us  cominj.;  he  leaned  his  hack  aj^ainst  the 
hank,  and  was  li^htinjf  his  pipe  as  we  jussed  He  was  an  old 
man,  an  Irishman,  and  looked  tireil.  He  hail  come  from  the  far- 
ther end  of  the  road,  fifty  miles  distant,  and  had  thirty  yet  before 
him  to  reach  town.  He  looked  the  dismay  he  evidently  felt,  when, 
in  answer  to  his  in(|uiry,  we  told  him  it  was  yet  ten  miles  to  the 
first  house.  La  Chance's.  lUit  there  was  a  roof  nearer  than  that, 
where  he  doubtless  passed  the  nij^ht,  fi)r  he  did  not  claim  hospital- 
ity at  the  cabin  ■>f  La  Ch;jnce.  We  arrived  there  betimes,  but  found 
the  ".spare  bed"  assigned  to  other  j^uests ;  so  we  were  comfortably 
lodj^ed  upon  the  haymow.  One  of  the  l)o\  s  lij^hted  us  up  with  a 
candle,  and  made  level  places  for  us  upon  the  hay. 

La  Chance  was  one  of  tin:  j^ame  wardens  or  constables  appointed 
by  the  (lovernment  to  see  the  j^ame  laws  enforced.  Joe  hail  not  felt 
entirely  at  his  ease  about  the  duck  he  was  surreptitiously  takinj^  to 
town,  and  when,  by  its  "(|uack,"  ••  (|uack,"  it  called  upon  La  Cliance 
for  protection,  he  responiled  at  once.  Jot;  was  onlijred  to  liberate  it 
then  and  there,  and  to  hear  the  law  read  aiul  t-.\pounded,  ami  be 
threatened  till  he  turned  pale  besides.  It  was  eviilent  that  they  follow 
the  Home  Ciovernment  in  the  absurd  practice  of  enforcinjf  their  laws 
in  Canada.  La  Chance  said  he  was  under  oath  not  to  wink  at  or 
permit  any  violation  of  the  law,  and  seemetl  to  think  that  made  a 
difference. 

We  were  off  earlj-  in  the  morninjj;,  and  before:  we  had  gone  two 
miles  met  a  party  from  (Juebec  who  must  have  been  driving  nearly 
all  night  to  give  the  black  flies  an  early  breakfast.  Before  long,  a 
slow  rain  set  in  ;  we  saw  another  party  who  had  taken  refuge  in  a 
house  in  a  grove.  When  tht:  rain  had  become  so  brisk  that  we 
began  to  think  of  seeking  shelter  ourselves,  we  passed  a  party  of 
young  men  and  boys — si.xteen  of  them  —  in  a  cart  turning  back  to 


?5r  -:■ 


\v       1 


Tlw  Halcvon  in  Canada. 


567 


town,  watcr-soakcci  anil  heavy  (tor  tlie  poor  horse  hail  all  it  coulil 
pull),  but  merry  anil  ^ooil-naturetl.  We  pauseil  awhile  at  the  farm- 
house where  we  hail  j^jot  our  hay  on  .i^oinj^  out,  were  treateil  to  a 
ilrink  of  milk  ami  some  wild  red  cherries,  and  when  the  rain  slack- 
ened drove  on,  and  hy  ten  o'clock  saw  the  city,  ei^ht  miles  distant, 
with  the  sun  shininj^  upon  its  steep,  tinned  roofs. 

The  next  morninj^.  we  si-l  out  per  steamer  for  th«;  Saj^uenay,  and 
entereil  U|Jon  the  second  phase  of  our  travels,  but  with  less  relish 
than  we  could  have  wished.  .Scenery-huntini;  is  the  least  satisfyinj^ 
pursuit  1  have  ever  enijaiiied  in.  What  one  sees  in  his  necessary 
travels,  or  doinj^  his  work,  or  !.;oing  a-fishinj^,  seems  worth  while; 
but  the  famous  view  you  j^^o  out  in  colil  blood  to  admire  is  <|uite  apt 
to  elude  you.  Nature  loves  to  enter  a  door  another  hand  has  openeil; 
a  mountain  view,  or  a  water-fall.  I  have  noticed,  never  looks  better 
than  when  one  has  just  bei-n  warmed  up  by  the  capture  of  a  bi<^ 
trout,  if  we  had  been  bound  for  some  salmon-stream  up  the  Saj^ue- 
nay,  we  should  perhaps  have  possessed  that  ijenerous  ami  receptive 
frame  of  mind  —  that  open  house  of  the  heart  —  which  makes  one 
"  elitfible  to  any  jj^ood  fortune,"  and  the  j^rand  scenery  would  have 
come  in  as  fit  sauce  to  the  salmon.  An  adventure,  a  bit  of  experi- 
ence of  some  kind,  is  what  one  wants  when  he  !L,^oes  forth  to  admire 
woods  anil  waters. — somi'thinij  to  create  a  drauj^ht  and  make  the 
embers  of  thouv^ht  and  feelini,^  brij^hten.  Nature-,  like  certain  wary 
j^ame.  is  best  taken  by  seeminij  to  pass  by  her,  intent  on  other 
matters. 

Hut  without  any  such  errand,  or  occupation,  or  indirection,  wi; 
manaifed  to  extract  considerable  satisfaction  from  the  view  of  the 
lower  St.  Lawrence  and  the  Satjuenay. 

We  had  not  paid  the  customary  visit  to  the  falls  of  the  Mont- 
morency, but  we  shall  see  them  after  all,  for  In-fore  we  are  a  leatjue 
from  Quebec  the)'  come  into  view  on  the  left.  \  dark  .ijlen  or 
chasm  there  at  the  end  of  the  Heaufort  Slopes  seems  suddenly  to 
have  put  on  a  lonif  white  apron.  \\\  intently  jrazinjj,  one  can  see 
the  motion  and  falling  of  the  water,  thouj^h  it  is  six  or  seven  miles 
away.  There  is  no  siijn  of  the  river  above  or  below  but  this  trem- 
bling white  curtain  of  foam  and  spray. 

It  was  very  sultry  when  we  left  Ouebec,  but  about  noon  we 
struck  much  clearer  and  cooler  air,  and  soon  after  ran  into  an  im- 


\lk 


?:;n   i 


I 


li'ij 


568 


The  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


mcnsc  wave  or  puff  of  fojf  that  canu;  tiriftinjf  up  the  river  ami  set  all 
the  fo^-j^uns  Ijoouiinjf  alonj^  shore.  W'e  were  soon  through  it  into 
clear,  crisp  space,  with  room  enouj^h  for  any  ey«;  to  ranj^e  in.  On 
the  south,  the  shores  of  the  j^^reat  river  appear  low  ami  uninterestinj;, 
hut  on  th(;  north,  they  are  hold  and  strikinj^  enouj^h  to  make  it  up  — 
hijrh,  scarred,  unpeopled  moinitain  ran^^es  the  whole  wa\.  The 
points  of  interest  to  the  eye  in  the  broad  expanse  of  water  were  the 
white  porpoises  that  kept  rollini;.  rollinjf  in  the  distance  all  day. 
They  came  up  like  the  pt^rimeter  of  a  j^^reat  wheel,  that  turns  slowly 
and  then  disappears.  I'rom  mid-forenoon  we  could  see  far  ahead  an 
immense  column  of  yellow  smoki-  rising  up  and  llatteninj^  out  upon 
the  sky  .md  stretchini;  away  heyond  the  hori/on.  Its  form  was  that 
of  some  a(|uatic  plant  that  shoots  a  stem  up  throu.i,di  the  water  and 
spreads  its  broad  leaf  uoon  the  surface;.  This  sm<jk\  lily-pad  must 
have  reaclunl  nearly  to  Maine.  It  pn»ved  to  be  in  the  Indian 
c()untr\,  ir  tlu-  mountains  beyond  thi-  moutii  of  the  SaijucMiay,  and 
must  have  n:pr(;senl(;d  an  immense  destriiclion  of  fort-st  timber. 

The  steamer  is  two  hours  crossinj^  th«;  .St.  Lawrence  from  Kiviere 
du  l.oup  to  '! "adousae.  The  Saj^uenay  pushes  a  broad  sweep  of 
dark-blue  water  down  into  its  mi.Ljhtier  brother,  that  is  sharply  de- 
fined from  the  deck  of  the  steamer.  The  two  rivers  seem  to  touch, 
but  not  to  blend,  so  proud  and  haughty  is  this  chieftain  from  the 
north.  On  th<;  mountains  above  Tadousac  one  could  see  banks  of 
sand  left  by  the  ancient  seas.  Naked  njck  and  sterile  sand  are  all 
the  Tadousacker  has  to  m.ike  his  j^anlen  of,  so  far  as  1  observed. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  soil  alon_i(  the  Sai^uenay  until  you  j^et  to  lia-ha 
Hay,  and  then  there  is  not  much,  anti  poor  (piality  at  that. 

What  the  ancient  fires  tlitl  not  burn,  the  ancient  seas  have 
washed  away.  I  overheanl  an  Lnj^lish  resident  say  to  a  Yankee 
tourist,  '•  You  will  think  you  are  approaching  the  enil  of  the  worKI 
up  here."  It  certainly  diti  suggest  something  apocryphal  or  anti- 
mundane — a  segment  of  the  moon  or  of  a  cleft  asteroid,  matter  dead 
or  wrecked.  The  world -buiklers  must  have  had  their  foundry  up  in 
this  neighborhood,  and  the  bed  of  this  river  was  doubtless  the  channel 
through  which  the  molten  granite  flowed.  Some  niischi<;f-loving 
god  has  let  in  the  sea  whih'  things  were  yet  red-hot,  and  there  has 
been  a  time  here.  Hut  the  channel  still  seems  filled  with  water  from 
the  mid-Atlantic,  cold  and  blue-black,  and  in  places  between  seven 


■11  1 


The  llalcvon  in  Cainuia. 


569 


and  eiji[ht  thousand  fi'ct  deep  (one  and  a  half  miles).  In  fact,  the 
enormous  depth  of  the  Saj^uenay  is  one  of  the  wonilers  of  physical 
jfeoj^rapliy.      It  is  as  j^^reat  a  marvel  in  its  way  as  Xiaj^ara. 

Tile  ascent  of  the  river  is  maile  hy  nij^ht,  and  tlu;  traveler  finds 
himself  in  iia-ha  Hay  in  the  morninif.  The  steam<!r  lies  here 
several  hours  In-fon?  startinj^  on  her  return  trip,  and  takes  in  large 
(juantities  of  \vhit(;  hirch  wood,  as  she  does  also  at  liulousac. 
The  chief  product  of  the  country  seemed  to  he  huckleherries,  of 
which  large  (juantities  are  shipped  to  (juehec  in  rude  hoard  boxes, 
holding  about  a  ptick  eacli.  Little  girls  came  aboard  or  lingered 
about  the  landing  with  cornucopias  of  l)irch-l)ark  fdled  with  red 
raspberries  ;  live  cents  for  about  half  a  pint  was  the  usual  j)rice. 
The  village  of  St.  .\lphonse,  when;  the  steamer  tarries,  is  a  cluster 
of  small,  humbh;  dw(!llings,  dominated,  like  all  Canadian  villages, 
by  an  immense  church.  I'sually  the  church  will  hold  all  the 
houses  in  the  village :  pile  them  .ill  up  and  they  would  hardly 
ecjual  it  in  size;  it  is  the  one  coaspicuous  object,  and  is  seen  alar ; 
and  on  the  various  lines  of  travel  one  sees  many  more  priests 
than  laymen.  Ihey  appear  to  be  about  the  only  class  that  stir 
about  and  have  a  good  timi-.  Many  of  the  houses  were  covered 
with  birch-bark, — the  canoe  birch  — held  to  its  place  by  perpendicular 
strij)S  of  boartl  or  split  pole-s. 

;\  man  with  a  iiorse  and  a  buckboard  persuaded  us  to  give  him 
twenty-five  c(;nts  eacli  to  take  us  two  miles  up  tlu;  .St.  .\Ii)hons(!  River 
to  see  the  salmon  jump.  There  is  a  high  saw-mill  tlam  there,  which 
every  salmon  in  his  upward  journey  tries  his  hand  at  leaping.  A 
race-way  has  been  construct(;d  arouml  the  dam  for  their  benefit, 
which,  it  seems,  they  do  not  use  till  they  have;  repeatedly  tried  to 
scale  the  dam.  The  day  before  our  visit  three  tleatl  fish  were  found 
in  the  pool  below,  killed  by  too  much  jurii|)ing.  Thost;  we  saw  had 
the  jump  about  all  taken  out  of  them  ;  several  did  not  get  more  than 
half  their  length  out  of  the  water,  and  occasionally  only  an  impotent 
nose  would  prt)tru(le  from  the  foam.  One  fish  made  a  leap  of  three  or 
four  feet  and  landed  on  an  apron  of  tin;  dam  and  tumbittd  helplessly 
back  ;  he  shot  up  likt;  a  bird  and  rolled  back  like  a  clod.  This  was  the 
only  view  of  salmon,  the  buck  of  the  rivers,  we  had  on  our  journey. 

It  was  a  bright  and  flawless  midsummer  day  that  we  sailtrd  down 
the  .Saguenay.  and  nothing  was  wanting  but  a  good  e.xcuse  for  being 


i 


illi 


'U  I 


r  ':- 


\r<:. 


V 

if" 


hi  ' 


570 


T/ie  Halcyon  in  Canada. 


there.  The  river  was  as  lonely  as  the  St.  John's  road  ;  not  a  sail  or 
a  smoke-stack  the  whole  sixty-five  miles.  The  scenery  culminates 
at  Cape  Kternity,  where  the  rocks  rise  sheer  from  the  water  to  a 
height  of  eighteen  hundred  feet.  This  view  dwarfed  everything  I 
had  ever  before  seen.  There  is  perhaps  nothing  this  side  the  Yo- 
semite  chasm  that  equals  it,  and,  emptied  of  its  water,  this  chasm 
would  far  surpass  that  famous  canon,  as  the  river  here  is  a  mile 
and  a  quarter  deep.  The  bald  eagle  nests  in  the  niches  in  the 
precipice,  secure  from  any  intrusion.  Immense  blocks  of  the  rock 
had  fallen  out,  leaving  areas  of  shadow  and  clinging,  overhanging 
masses  that  were  a  terror  and  fascination  to  the  eye.  There  was  a 
great  fall  a  few  years  ago,  just  as  the  steamer  had  passed  from  under 
and  blown  her  whistle  to  wake  the  echoes.  The  echo  came  back, 
and  with  it  a  part  of  the  mountain  that  astonished  more  than  it 
delighted  the  lookers-on.  The  pilot  took  us  close  around  the  base 
of  the  precipice  that  we  might  fully  inspect  it.  And  here  my  eyes 
played  me  a  trick  the  like  of  which  they  had  never  done  before. 
One  of  the  boys  of  the  steamer  brought  to  the  forward  deck  his 
hands  full  of  stones,  that  the  curious  ones;  among  the  passengers 
might  try  how  easy  it  was  to  throw  one  ashore.  "Any  girl  ought 
to  do  it,"  I  said  to  myself,  after  a  man  had  tried  and  had  failed  to 
clear  half  the  distance.  Seizing  a  stone,  I  cast  it  with  vigor  and 
confidence,  and  as  much  expected  to  see  it  smite  the  rock  as  I  ex- 
pected to  live.  "  It  is  a  good  while  getting  there,"  I  mused,  as  I 
watched  its  course.  Down,  down  it  went ;  there,  it  will  ring  upon 
the  granite  in  half  a  breath  ;  no,  down — into  the  water,  a  little  more 
than  half-way  !  "  Has  my  arm  lost  its  cunning  ? "  I  said,  and  tried 
again  and  again,  but  with  like  result.  The  eye  was  completely  at 
fault.  There  was  a  new  standard  of  size  before  it  to  which  it  failed 
to  adjust  itself  The  rock  is  so  enormous  and  towers  so  above  you 
that  you  get  the  impression  it  is  much  nearer  than  it  actually  is. 
When  the  eye  is  full  it  says,  "  Here  we  are,"  and  the  hand  is  ready 
to  prove  the  fact ;  but  in  this  case  there  is  an  astonishing  discrepancy 
between  what  the  eye  reports  and  what  the  hand  finds  out. 

Cape  Tvinity,  the  wife  of  this  Colossus,  stands  across  a  chasm 
through  which  flows  a  small  tributary  of  the  Saguenay,  and  is  a  head 
or  two  shorter,  as  becomes  a  wife,  and  less  rugged  and  broken  in 
outline. 


The  Hale  von  in  Camnia. 


571 


I'Vom  Riviere  du  Loup,  where  we  passed  the  night  ami  ate  our 
first  "  Tominy-cocls,"  our  thread  of  travel  makes  a  hij^^  loop  around 
New  Urunswick  to  St.  John,  thence  out  and  down  throuj^h  Maine 
to  lioston, — a  thread  upon  which  many  delightful  excursions  and 
reminisci'nces  might  he  strung.  We  traversed  the  whole  of  the 
valley  of  the  Metapedia,  and  passed  the  doors  of  many  famous 
salmon  stieams  and  rivers,  and  heard  everywhere  the  talk  they 
inspiri: ;  one  could  not  take  a  nap  in  the  car  for  the  e.xcitement  of 
the  l)ig  fish  stories  he  was  obliged  to  overhear. 

The  Metapedia  is  a  most  enticing-looking  stream  ;  its  waters  are 
as  colorless  as  melted  snow  ;  1  could  easily  havi;  seen  the  salmon  in 
it  as  we  shot  along,  if  they  had  come  out  from  their  hiding-places. 
It  was  the  first  white-water  stream  we  had  seen  since  leaving  the 
Catskills  ;  for  all  the  Canadian  streams  are  black  or  brown,  either 
from  the  iron  in  the  soil  or  from  the  leechings  of  the  spruce  swamps. 
But  in  New  Brunswick  we  saw  only  these  clear,  silver-shod 
streams  ;  I  imagined  they  had  a  different  ring  or  tone  also. 
The  Metapedia  is  deficient  in  good  pools  in  its  lower  portions; 
its  limpid  waters  flowing  with  a  trancjuil  murmur  over  its  witle, 
evenly  paved  bed  for  miles  at  a  stretch.  The  salmon  i)ass  over 
these  shallows  by  night  and  rest  in  the  pools  b>-  day.  The  Resti- 
gouche.  which  it  joins,  and  which  is  a  famous  salmon-stream  and  the 
father  of  famous  salmon-streams,  is  of  the  same  complexion  and  a 
delight  to  look  upon.  There  is  a  noted  pool  where  the  two  join, 
and  one  can  sit  upon  the  railroad  bridge  and  count  the  noble 
fish  in  the  lucid  depths  below.  The  valley  here  is  fertile,  and  has 
a  cultivated,  well-kept  look. 

We  passed  the  Jacquet,  the  Belledune,  the  Nepissisquit.  the 
Miramichi  ("  happy  retreat")  in  the  night,  and  have  only  their  bird- 
call names  to  report. 


fw\ 


\\i 


,:■ 

w 

M 

^ 


ri 


!::-l 


AM()\(.    riii-    riiorsAM)   islands. 


II \    llnW.XKh    I'VI.K. 


Till!  U'lriric-  (oinhat  l)ct\vf«'n  Maiialio/ho,  ihr  Indian  lnri>,  luiti  r 
known  as  tlu-  Hiawatha  ol"  l.ttn^^rcilow,  and  his  father,  thr 
West  Wind,  was  il(iul)lk:ss  siiv,fj,Hstfd  to  the  first  narrator  of 
that  nuMnoral)lc  i-vcnl  I»y  the  hikes  of  northern  New  N Ork  upon  the 
oni-  hand,  and  those  of  the  St.  I.awrenee  (  hain  uiton  the  other,  as 
inarkini;  tin-  c-a\iti«'s  from  which  those  Titans  nijoju  he  supposed  to 
havi-  pliickeil  tlu;  masses  of  rock  they  hurled  at  each  otlier.  the  Vall- 
inj^f  fni}.;nients  of  which  formed  that  p(;culiar  L;eoloj.jiial  phenomenon 
known  as  the  I'housaiul  Islands,  scatt«n'd  throuj^h  thi'  .St.  Lawrence 
for  a  hundred  miles  or  so  of  its  coiirsi;. 

ThesL-  islaiuls.  ahout  eiifhteen  hundred  in  numl)er.  stretthinjj; 
throU}.jhout  that  hroad  portion  of  thi;  upper  St.  Lawrence  <'.\tend- 
inj,'  from  Lake  Ontario  to  tin-  Lonj.^  Sault.  art;  of  all  sizes  anil  of  all 
kinds:  some  n«)t  more  than  a  yard  or  so  in  extent,  and  som«-  cover- 
injf  many  acres;  some  hare,  rocky,  and  disolate ;  some  thickly  cov- 
ered with  a  scrai,f}^'y  JLjrowth  of  scruh  pines  and  hemlocks;  some 
shadeil  with  considerable  forests  of  timl)er  trees,  anil  some  cultivated 
here  and  there,  producini,'^  such  slij^ht  sustenance  as  the  inhahitants 
can  wrui.^;  from  an  unfruitful  soil. 

In  the  old  Indian  days,  this  Inautiful  extent  of  the  river  from 
Clayton  to  Alexandria  Hay.  emhracinj,^  an  extent  of  sixteen  miles, 
wideninj^  almost  to  a  lake  and  crowded  with  a  perfect  maze  of  islands, 
went  by  the  name  of  Manaloana.  or  (iarden  of  the  (ireat  Spirit; 
and.  indeed,  in  the  time  of  Nature's  undisputed  empire,  when  the 
larj^er  islands  were  covt:reil  with  thick  ;4rowths  of  pine,  hemlock, 
white  birch,  and  maple ;   when  the  wild  deer  swam  from  woody  islet 


M 


^^'^ 


574 


.'//ftof/jir  the   Thou sn mi  Islniuh 


to  woody  islrt,  and  each  little  lily-padded  hay.  ncstlinj^^  in  anionj^ 
tin-  hills  and  bluffs  ol' the  islands,  iccnu-d  with  waterfowl  mulistiirhcd 
l)y  the  rt|)ort  of  a  j^ini,  it  was  wttrlh),  to  tlu:  semi  itortical  niind  of 
the  Indian,  lo  he  an  ahode  of  Mini  who  mated  idl  nature,  and  who 
had  made  this  lovely  ri-jrion  as  an  espeiial  tlw«'llinj^  phut:  for  hiin- 
si-lf.  I'lveii  so  latt;  as  fifty  years  aj^o,  before  the  j^reat  tunuilt- 
cn-atinj^f  steam-hoats  had  distiirlu-d  these  solitudes,  tlu-  islands  were 
the  favorite  retreat  of  deer;  catamounts  waih'd  in  the  tanj^ded  depths 
of  th«'  nij^lu  woods,  and  each  cotti  nook  and  corner  teenuil  with  wild 
life. 

Now.  howeviT,  thi'  ine.\oral)ly  rolatinj;  kaleidosc(tp(;  of  time  has 
shaken  away  the  savaj^'e  scenes  of  old,  never  to  he  repeatt'il,  and 
new  ones  appear  to  the  eye  of  the  present.      No  lonj^jer  in  Alexan- 


MAP  (IF 
I'Nrl  itf  llir 

TH01S.I\I»  IKLA5i0fl 

•flrthr> 

Ht.  I.AHri'ii4*e  River 

Nkah  AitXANtmu  Hay  N.  Y. 
Uirfwl*.)  rr..iii  -II  ••(•>  Canxli  M.,i  ..fltlt  ■• 

Kcv.di'D.ltiHkwcU 


/];: 


AinoH}^  the   Tl  10 1 1  saint  Islaiiits. 


575 


ciria  Hay — fortunately  still  iKaiitiliil — dots  Nature  ri;ij,'n  in  silint 
majesty,  lor  th*.-  constant  tlultcr  and  l)usil(r  of  llu;  life  and  }(ayrty  of  a 
sumniir  resort  have  superseded  her.  Hut  althou},di  Alexandria  Hay 
is  in  this  continual  tumult  of  life,  for  some  fortimat(;  and  almost 
imaccountal)l(!  n.-ason,  the  'I'housand  Islands  are  not  in  the  least 
tinctured  with  the  blase  air  of  an  ordinar)  walerinjf-place,  nor  an; 
they  likely  to  become  so.  There  are  humlreds — thousands  of  places, 
ruj^j^ed  and  solitary,  amonj,^  which  a  hoat  can  j^liile,  while  its  occu 
pant  lies  jrloriously  indolent,  doini;  nothin;^,  hut  reveling  in  the 
realization  of  life';  litth;  hays,  almost  land-locked,  where  th<;  resin 
ous  odors  of  hemlock  and  pine  fill  the  nostrils,  anti  the  whispers  of 
nature's  unseen  life  serv(.'s  hut  lo  maker  the  solitude  mori-  perceptihie. 
Sometimes  the  vociferous  cawinj^  of  crows  soun<ls  through  the  hol- 


low woods,  or  a  solitary  (•ai,dc  lifts  from  his  |)erch  on  llu;  top  ol  a 
stark  and  dead  pine  and  sails  majestically  across  the  hlue  arch  of 
the  sky.  .Such  scents  occur  in  a  beautiful  sheet  of  water  called  the 
Lake  of  the  Isle,  I)  inj;  placidly  ami  balmily  in  tlu;  lap  of  tlur  |)iney 
hills  of  Wells  Island,  rellectinj;  tlK;ir  rui;j.;(:d  crests  in  its  glassy  sur- 
face, dotted  here  antl  there  by  tiny  islands. 

In  the  stillest  bays  arc;  s])ots  that  seem  to  lie  in  a  Rip  V'an  Win- 
kle sleep,  where  one  would  .scarcc;ly  be  surjiriseil  to  see  an  Indian 


'  1    i 


is 


',.1  n 

J' 
i' 

If 


I 


•it 


I 


f 

' 

IB  j 

1 H 

H  !f  i 

! 

! 

'; 

vi"  ■ 


il 


It!'  ;   ' 


576 


////0//II  ///(•    Tliousinui  I  sin  mis. 


INIKT     In    Till-     I  AKK. 


canoe  shoot  Irmn  Ixiicalli  tlic  luinloc  ks  nl  tin-  slion-  into  llir  o|hii, 
Iri'ii^lUrtl  witli  a  Nattv  IWiinpo  or  a  C'liinj^achjjjook,  linakint;  tln' 
plariil  siiilac*'  ol  tlic  waU-r  into  slowly  vvidcniiii;  ripples.  In  smh  a 
spot,  one  evening,  alter  a  dav  spent  in  sketchini^,  when  iiaddlinji^  our 
l)oat  .ihout  in  an  indolent,  aimless  way,  lookint;  down  through  the  rrys 
tal  eli-arncss  of  the  water  to  the  jnnj^le  of  weeds  lulow,  now  Iriijhten- 
iniLj  a  piekerel  Ironi  his  haunt  or  startlinjf  a  hrood  of  wDod  tiuiks  honi 
ain«»n^  the  rushes  and  arrowheads,  we  lound  oinseives  lulated.  As 
the  sun  set  in  a  hla/e  of  erinison  and  i;oM,  two  hoatnien  rowini^  honie- 
waril  p.issed  darkly  alons^  the  jL^lass)  sin'lace  that  caui^lu  the  Ma/iny 
lii^lu  ol  the  sk\,  and  across  the  water  laine,  in  measured  rhythm 
with  tile  »li|)  ol"  lh«ir  oars,  the  tune  of  a  (piaint,  old,  hall- melancholy 
Methodist  hynm  that  they  sanj^.  We  listened  as  tiie  sony^  trailed 
alter  them  until  lhe\  turned  into  the  inlet  hehmd  the  dusky  woods 
anil  were  lost  to  view.  I'rom  such  romantic  and  secluded  scenes 
oiu"  can  watch  the  hustle  and  hiuTy  of  life  as  serenely  as  thouj^h  one- 
were  the  inhabitant  of  another  planet. 

Ahoiii  a  (|iiarter  of  a  mile  hack  of  the  'I'hoiisand  Island  House  is 
a  spriniLj  ol  mineral  water  strongly  tincturetl  with  iron,  cU-ar  as  a 
diamond  ol  the  first  water  ami  cold  as  ice.  A  litlie  cre«'k,  a  perfect 
ct)nservalory  of  a(|uatic  ami   amphil)ioiis  plants,  wiiulini;   in  and  out 


^ 


ImoNg  the   Thou sa mi  IsUimh. 


511 


Ml   All    III      I  HI  IK     AMI     IKIIS     M'KIN 


will)    many  alirii|)l    turns,    Itads   to   within 
a  few  (laccs  of  it.      ( )n  riihcr  si<lr  of  the 

oprn  water  of  its  rlianntl  is  an  almost  tro|ii(al  tanj^rlc  and  pro- 
fusion of  vcj^clation ;  \vat<'r  lilirs,  \vhit<'  as  driven  snow,  witli 
liearls  of  s^old,  rcposinj^  on  tlicir  i,dossy,  <(iol  i^rccn  pads;  yellow 
tlocks,  arrowheads  with  purple  clusters  of  tiny  (lowers,  j^dant  l)ul 
rushes,  cat  tails  and  ferns, — all  in  a  liewilderin^  tanL;le  of  verdinc, 
at  times  almost  impassal)le.  A  ru<le  wooden  hridj^'e  spans  it  at  one 
placi',  so  close  to  the  water  that  the  hoatman  is  oMij^Mil  to  Wend 
nearl)  (loiil)le  in  passini;  under  it.  Mere  one  'nay  occ.isionally  see 
a  chul)l>y  urthin  anj^lini^  in  tin-  i^lassy  water  for  small  pickiTel  or 
rock  l)ass.  The  bottom  o(  the  creek  is  matted,  and  in  som«'  places 
fairly  choked,  with  an  exuherance  of  water-i^rasses  of  all  descriptions. 
Perhaps  one  of  the  liest  and  easiest  ways  of  hecomin^^  thorouj^dily 
ac(|uainted  with  the  various  views,  some  of  iIk  ni  extremely  he.iulihil, 
that  the  islanils  present,  is  hy  means  of  a  little  steam  yacht 
which  runs  in  daily  trips  around  Wells  Island.  Slartint;  from 
Alexandria  l»ay,  she  steams  up  the  river  amonj^f  the  t;roup  of  islands 
lyin).jf  theri',  past  cotlai^es  ami  campiriLj-tents  nestling  anionic  the 
cool  nrcen  shadows  of  the  trees;  past  shallow  lily-padded  hays, 
at  whose  edj^M-  stands,  sentinel-like,  an  ancient  lo^f  (al>in  or  dilapi 
<lated  l)arn  ;   |)ast  a  camp-meetini;  i^round  at  the  upper  extrtmiity  c)f 

i7 


!' 


1 


PI-': 


57« 


Intoii^ir  the   Thou  sa  mi  hi  amis. 


»•; 


illl^ 


A  moil  1:^  fliv   I'lioiisaiid  Islaiuh. 


579 


<lirt:cti()n  would  dash  ll>t;  hoal  ai,'ainst  tlif  i\,(:ks,  slic  makes  a  sudden 
<lcviali()n  t<»  the  Icll,  aiiollier  to  llie  ri;^du,  and  !<• !  the  Canachan 
channel  hes  Ixtfore  her  a  j^ood  mile  and  three  (|uarlers  Itroad,  and 
(jnMiadier  Lij^ht-house  lifts  in  the  far  dislanc*-.  After  passinj,'  a 
numl)(:r  of  curious  Canadian  lumber  stations,  perched  hij^di  on  the 
ste(t|)  hank,  th(r  hoat  rounds  th«!  lower  end  of  Wells  Islarul,  directs 
her  course  amon^  \\\v  little  isles  on  the  .American  side,  and  llnalls 
st()|)s  at  Alexandria   Hay. 

Ihe  islands  in  tlu;  Canadian  channel  of  this  part  of  the  riv<r  are 
chiefly  in  possession  of  the  (iovcrnnicnl  of  the  Dominion.  Amonj^ 
them  are  somi;  of  the  most  interestinj^  of  the  whole  t;roup.  ( )ld 
Hluff  raises  his  ruj^iftid  front  from  a  liundnMl  feet  of  wal«r  to  eij^hty 
feet  of  hare,  perp(;ndicular  nx  k,  his  forehead  closely  matted  with  a 
thick  jfrowth  of  scruh  pines.  I'hrouj^di  the  center  of  the  island 
runs  a  valley,  almost  a  .nort,^!,  in  which  stands  an  uninhabited 
frame  sh.uity  for  th(;  accommodation  of  visitors.  It  is  a  rouj;^h, 
unfmisht'd  structure  of  th<;  coarsest  (l(;al,  hut  it  looks  pictures(|ue 
and  romantic  enou.L,di,  shaded  an<l  almost  hidden  as  it  is  hy  maph.-s 
and  white  birch.  I'rom  the  top  of  the  hij,di  bluff,  frontinj,'  down  tlu; 
river,  a  maj^nificent  \iew  is  obtained  of  the  islands  lyin,t,f  Ix  lu-alh, 
both  in  the  .American  aii<l  Canadian  channels.  Here  the  artist  sat 
p(;rch(!<l  upon  the  sheer  vx\\h-  of  \\\v.  bluff  sketching  dilij^jently,  in 
full  view  of  th(;  natives  for  a  mile  around,  and  vastly  to  their 
astonishment. 

"  llulloa,  Cap  !"  came  faintly  wy  from  below,  lie  looked  down  ; 
a  cockl(;-shell  of  a  melond)oat  was  tossinj^  on  the  waves  below. 

"  |{(;  ye  nec'din'  a  watermillin  .•' " 

I  le  thoujfht  not,  unhss  the;  an.xious  fruit-vender  would  carry  it 
up  th«;  hill  at  the  rear  of  the  bluff.  While  en^a<.,fe(l  in  this  collo 
<iuy,  the  artist's  sketch-book  slipped  from  his  hand  and  landed  alter 
many  gyrations  about  half-way  down  the  fa(c  ol  the  (lid.  'I  wo  ef 
the  party  were;  oblijj^ed  to  !.^o  below  in  a  boat,  one  of  them  dimbin^f 
the  rocks  to  st.-cure  th(!  lost  book,  whih;  a  third  remained  above  to 
direct  their  movements. 

One  of  tlu;  most  curious  of  tlu;  American  islands  stands  a  short 
distance  abov(;  Alexandria  Hay, — a  cubical  block  of  j^nanitc;  havinj^^ 
almost  the  app(;aranc(;  of  beini^  carv<(l  by  human  haiuls,  rejoicini,^  in 
the  not  very  savor)'  name  of  'Ihe   l)(;virs  Oven,  its  summit  j,nvin^ 


c8o 


Among  the  riioitsami  I  si  a  mis. 


'hL 


i    ! 


t     ! 


Till'.    ni'.VM.  S    OVKN. 


sustenance  to  a  few  L;aiMit  cedars,  and  its  sides  perforated  l)y  an 
almost  circular  openinj^  which  at  a  ilistance  iloes  hear  some  resem- 
blance to  a  i,Mi^antic  baker's  oven. 

The  upper  extremity  of  Carleton's  Island,  some  twenty-i'ight 
miles  above  Alexanilria  Hay,  narrows  into  a  contractetl  promontory 
of  land  endini;  in  an  abrupt  bluff  fifty  or  sixty  feet  hiijh.  Here, 
perched  aloft,  perceptible  to  all  passers-b)-  along  the  river,  and 
distinctly  visible  tor  miles  around,  stantl  a  number  of  to|)plinjr  and 
half-ruined  chimneys.  Like  .so  many  sentinels  standuiij  solemn- 
faced,  waitiny^  for  the  blessed  time  of  rest  that  will  relieve  them  from 
duty,  they  watch  over  the  ruins  of  an  old  I'Vench  fort,  .so  old  that  its 
history  has  been  lost  in  the  mists  of  the  past.  Attracted  by  that 
romantic  yjlamour  that  hani^s  in  the  viry  air  of  the  antiquateil  and 
dila|Mdated  ruin,  we  were  induced  to  pay  it  a  visit,  to  the  mild 
wonder  of  the  natives,  who  seemed  to  look  upon  the  artist  as  a 
species  of  harmless  lunatic.  .So  interested  were  we  with  the  time- 
worn  remains  that  a  brief  visit  developed  into  a  three  days'  stay. 

The  early  history  of  the  place  is  almost  entirely  lost,  insomuch 
that  it  is  supposed  by  some  to  be  the  ruin  of  oKl  l''ort  I'Vontenac.  It 
was,  so  far  as  existing  data  go  to  prove,  commanded  by  the  I'Vench 
about  the  year  i  760 ;  then  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Hnglish  with  the 


^. 


Imoiig  the  ThoustiUii  Islands. 


SSi 


.^-^-     9*"./     <^-^4^         7^  '  ^,.^- 


i.l.M.RAI.   VIl.W    IKliM    mill     ISI  ASh 

IriMicli  possessions,  and  was 

finally   captured    diirinir   the 

war  of  1S12   l)y  a  party  of 

Americans    under    command 

of    one     [lul)l)ard,    an     e,\- 

"ievolutionary    soldier,    who 

found    this    once    hir!L,fe    and 

important  fortress  under  the 

immediate  command  of  two 

wonK.Mi   and    three   invalids ;      ,         •:  juimht 

an  lchal)od  of  forts,  its  ^lory 
had  tleparted.  The  women  and  invalids  were  valorously  attacked, 
and  aftir  a  slight  resistance  they  capitulated  ;  the  |joor  old  fort, 
as  if  to  accelerate  its  already  projL^ressinjLj  ruin,  was  fired,  and  the 
Americans  with  their  prisoners  retired  to  the  main-land,  wh<re  they 
were  received  with  salutes,  cheers,  and  tho  music  of  the  Cape 
Vincent  band, — one  fife  and  a  drum. 

Since  that  day  the-  fort  has  never  been  rebuilt,  but  has  been 
allow(.'d  gradually  to  crumble  away  into  ruin,  producing;,  as  fruit  of 
its  semi-mythical  history,  a  rich  crop  of  romantic  stories  and  letjends. 
An  anti(|uated  well,  duo;  throuj^h  the  solid  Trenton  limestone  to  the 
level  of  the  lake,  has  been  converted  by  the  vivid  imatrinations  of  the 
natives  into  a  receptacle  o(  the  doubloons  which  the  bVench  upon 
evacuatinjr  the  fort  are  said  to  have  thrown  therein,  with  the  brass 
cannons  on  top  of  them  :  thouyfh  whv  thev  threw  their  doubloons 
37  \ 


■•^^'J 


di 


'li 


('' 


:N 


I'll 


'   <r 


■*      V. 


, 


a 


582 


imoiig  tlic  Thoiisaiui  IsUimh. 


!     I 


il  V 


\',m 


RUINS    OF    TMK    OLD    IdHI, 
lAKI.KIii.N  s    IMAM). 


into  the  well  instead  of  carryintf  them 
away,  has,  I  believe,  never  Ix-en  satis- 
factorily explained. 

rpon  either  siile,  anil  immediately  in  front  of  the  bluff  upon  which 
the  old  fort  stands,  is  a  pretty  little  bay,  which  ont  .'  doubtless  aflbrded 
pleasant  and  easy  anchoras^e  for  the  vessels  that  lay  under  its  pro- 
tectinif  i;uns.  An  innoc(;nt  luml)er  craft,  sunk  many  years  aj^o  in 
this  harbor,  has  been,  throutjh  the  medium  of  the  romantic  atmos- 
phere that  han<;s  about  the  ])lace,  converted  into  an  audacious 
smu<jf,der  that,  blown  ashore  here,  sank  with  a  fabulous  amount 
of  moneys,  silks,  laces,  and  Canadian  brandies  hidden  beneath  the 
lumber. 

Without  iloubt,  the  place  was  once  of  considerable  importance. 
The  fortress  has  been  built  in  the  most  elaborate;  manner  after  the 
system  of  \'^auban,  and  exhibits  a  skill  of  the  very  luLjhest  order  in 
the  art  of  constructinjj;^  defenses.  The  fortifications  in  the  rear  are 
semicircular  in  form  ;  the  trench,  four  feet  deep  and  twenty  broad,  is 
cut  throui^h  the  solitl  Trenton  limestone  :  the  glacis,  which  is  ap- 
proached by  a  gradual  elevation,  being  constructed  of  the  same 
material  to  the  height  of  four  feet.      Directly  on  the  river-front  it  is 


r  '  :  « s  S 


Among  the  Thousand  Islands. 


58: 


naturally  impregnable,  and  at  the  precipitous  side  was  probably 
ilel'endetl  merely  by  a  stockade. 

Numbers  of  j^raves  lie  in  a  flat  field  immediately  back  of  the  fort, 
many  of  which  have  been  excavated  by  relic-seekers  in  search  of 
I'Vench  buttons  or  shoe  and  knee  buckles.  A  number  of  irhost-like 
rose-bushes  standint^  starkly  here  and  there,  long  since  past  the 
lusty  age  of  flower-bearing,  probably  marked  out  paths  through  this 
cemetery  in  the  wilderness.  Hack  in  the  island,  in  a  copse,  are  the 
remains  of  an  Indian  burying-ground,  where  numbers  of  stone  arrow- 
heads, tomahawks,  etc.,  have  been  picked  up  at  different  times  ;  and 
to  the  right  of  the  fortres.s,  immediately  upon  the  bluff  overlooking 
the  Canadian  Channel,  are  still  older  graves,  where,  it  is  said,  as  the 
bluff  slowly  wears  away,  an  occasional  grinning  skull  or  grisly  bone 
is  e.xposed  to  the  long  e.xcluded  light  of  heaven. 

in  this  vicinity,  numbers  of  excellent  old-fashioned  wrought  nails 
are  constantly  being  plowed  up  or  otherwise  collected,  some  build- 
ings being  almost  completely  joined  with  them. 

While  here,  we  had  an  excellent  opportunity  of  gaining  a  practi- 
cal knowledge  of  the  daily  life  of  the  island  farmers,  being  obliged 
to  lodge  for  a  time  at  a  little  farm-house  that  nestled  beneath  the 
brow  (jf  the  old  fortification,  like  a  swallow's  nest  in  a  cannon's 
mouth. 

The  proprietor  did  not  seem  overzealous  to  accommodate  us;  for 
what  sane  man,  of  his  ow  n  free  choice,  would  sit  day  after  daj-  in  the 
broiling  sun  sketching  the  old  chimneys?  The  bill  of  fare  of  our 
supper  with  the  farm  hands  consisted  of  stewed  potatoes,  bread  and 
butter,  and  pie,  with  the  addition  of  scalding  tea.  The  tea  was  per- 
haps rather  lacking  in  the  titillating  taste  of  the  herb  itself  but  any 
weakness  in  that  direction  was  fully  compensated  for  by  the  thick- 
ness of  the  bread  and  the  solidity  of  the  pie.  After  this  repast,  we 
were  solemnly  shown  to  our  apartment  immediately  above  the 
kitchen,  dining  and  reception  room,  and  in  consequence  intensely 
hot  on  this  midsummer's  night.  Our  .sleeping  chamber  was  evi- 
dently the  room  of  state,  hung  with  wonderful  wall-paper,  the  floor 
pierced  by  the  arm  of  a  stove-pipe  from  the  room  below.  Here 
.stood  the  wash-stand,  without  the  usual  accompaniments  of  ewer, 
basin,  and  looking-glass ;  and  our  couches, — one  a  trundle-bed,  and 
the  other  a  gigantic  four-poster  of  anticjuated  date.     The  stove-pipe 


■ 


''I 


11 


vf: 


|!1 


,*• 


584 


Among  the  Thou  sand  Islands. 


i' 


i<  it- 


RIVF.R    CRAIT. 


served  as  an  excellent 
telephone  whereby  to 
hear  our  landlady  in 
the  room  beneath  dis- 
ciissinif  with  a  crony  the  proper  amount 
of  board  to  charge  her  guests.  "  Well,"  said  the  crony,  "  I've  a  feller 
a-stayen  with  me ;  I'm  a-goin'  to  charge  him  two  tlollars  a  week, 
and  " — in  a  determinetl  tone — "  I'm  a-troin'  to  <dt  it,  too  !  "  Modern 
luxuries  should  always  be  paid  for  at  whatever  price. 

On  some  of  the  islands  and  along  the  main-land  one  sometimes 
comes  upon  an  antiquated  group  of  Lombardy  poplars,  almost  invari- 
ably standing  in  the  vicinity  of  some  equally  anticjuated  log-cabin  or 
farm-house.  The  poplar  is  the  ancient  sign  of  hospitality,  and  in  the 
old  country  was  generally  planted  near  an  inn  or  hostelry.  These 
trees  doubtless  were  brought  to  this  countr)-  b)-  the  old  voyagers, 
and  served  as  a  landmark  by  which  many  a  traveler  or  sailor  on  the 
St.  Lawrence,  making  the  long  journey  from  Montreal  to  Toronto, 


Among  the  Thousand  IsUiiitis 


585 


hailed  the  vicinity  of  Christian  help  and  assistance  inih'cated  by  these 
darkly  colored  trees. 

Behind  Lower  Grenadier  Island,  and  three  or  four  miles  from 
Alexandria  Hay,  upon  the  Canadian  main-land,  are  a  niimher  of 
excavations  with  remains  of  chimneys  which  we  were  puzzled  for  a 
lony  time  to  account  for.  They  were  certainly  under-ground  dwell- 
ings, hut  what  was  their  use  we  could  not  satisfactorily  explain.  .\t 
len,>fth,  we  met  a  fisherman  who  told  us  he  recollected  hearins.,^  from 
his  irrandmother  that  in  the  "  I'.nj^Iish  war"  iiritish  troops  were 
(juartered  there  durin_Lf  the  winter.  Whether  the  Mnj^dish  war  was 
that  of  18 1 2  or  the  Revolution,  we  could  not  discover;  probal>l)'  the 
war  of  older  ilate  may  be  referred  to,  as  in  many  instances  trt^es  of 
considerable  size  have  j^rown  up  in  the  mitlst  of  the  excavations. 

Of  late  years,  perhaps,  no  event  caused  such  a  stir  of  excitement 
in  this  rejrion  as  the  .so-called  Patriot  war  in  1S38, —  a  revolt  of 
certain  Canadians  dissatisfied  with  the  government  of  Sir  I'"rancis 
Bond  Head,  then  }.,fovernor-^reneral  of  Canada, —  which  was  joined 
by  a  number  of  American  at^itators  ever  ripe  for  any  disturbance. 
The  first  center  of  operations  of  these  so-called  patriots  was  Navy 
Island,  in  the  middle  of  the  Niai^ara  River,  where  they  con_«,'rejj[ated, 
employing'  the  little  steam-vessel  Caroiiiic  in  carryinjr  arms  and 
munitions  of  war  to  that  point.  At  len^^th  the  steamer  was  captured 
by  some  Canadians,  fired,  and  run  over  the  falls  of  Niajrara.  Con- 
siderable indignation  was  excited  in  the  United  States  by  this 
destruction  of  the  property  of  American  citizens,  particularly  along 
the  border,  where  indignation  meetings  were  held,  and  secret  socie- 
ties called  "  Hunter's  Lodges  "  were  formed,  with  pass-words,  secret 
signals,  and  all  due  attendant  mysteries,  the  express  purpose  of 
which  was  revenge  upon  the  Canadian  (iovernment.  The  agitators 
were  deceived  by  these  signs  into  imagining  that  events  were  now 
ripe  for  a  general  border  war,  in  which  they  hoped  to  free  Canada 
from  the  rule  of  (Ireat  Britain. 

It  was  a  wild,  insane  affair  altogether,  and  after  somi;  time  con- 
sumed in  |)etty  threats  of  attack,  finally  reached  a  climax  in  the 
burning  of  the  Canadian  steamer  Sir  Robert  Peel — one  of  the 
finest  vessels  upon  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  most  prominent  actor  in 
this  affair  was  Bill  Johnston, — a  name  familiar  to  every  one  around 
this  region, —  whose  career  forms  a   series  of  romantic  adventures, 


M, 


.1  ' 


586 


,'lmong  the  riiotisami  Islamls. 


ilei-'cls,  and  escapes, — followcti  by  his  final  capture, —  which  would 
fill  a  novel.  Indi-ed,  we  uniierstand  that  a  novel  has  been  written  by 
a  Canaiiian  I'renchnian  on  this  theme,  th()u,i,di  we  have  not  had  the 
j^ood  fortune  to  fintl  any  one  who  has  read  it.  'Ihe  i)urning  of  the 
steamer  /V(7,  which  occurred  on  the  29th  of  May,  1H38,  remains, 
however,  an  act  of  inexcusable  and  stupid  incendiarism,  answering 
no  conceivable  }j[()(k1  purpose. 

I'"or  some  time  there  hatl  been  mutterinjfs  amonvf  certain  of  the 
s«)cieties,  and  for  a  few  days  previous  to  the  occurrence  somethini^ 
mysterious  was  felt  to  be  in  progress.  The  night  of  the  29th  was 
dark  ami  rainy.  About  eleven  o'clock,  the  Peel,  then  on  her  way 
from  iVescott  to  Toronto,  stopped  at  McDonald's  Wharf,  on  the 
south  side  of  W'elleslcy  —  now  Wells — Island,  for  the  purpose  of 
replenishing  her  almost  exhausted  stock  of  wood.  The  passengers 
were  all  asleep  in  the  cabin,  and  the  crew  busily  engaged  in  their 
occupation,  when  a  body  of  men,  twenty  in  number,  disguiseil  as 
Indians  and  with  blackened  faces,  yelling  tumultuously  and  shouting, 
"  Remember  the  Caroline!"  ran  (juickly  down  the  bank,  armed  with 
muskets  and  bayonets,  led  by  a  tall,  strongly  built  man,  in  a  red 
shirt — Hill  Johnston  himself.  In  a  moment  they  overpowered  the 
unsuspecting  crew,  while  on  boartl  all  was  tumult  and  terror.  Some 
of  the  ladies  fainted,  and  several  of  the  passengers  fled  to  the  shore 
through  the  rain,  clad  only  in  their  night-clothes.  A  short  oppor- 
tunity was  allowed  for  the  passengers  and  crew  to  carry  their  l)€ng- 
gage  to  the  shore,  but  by  far  the  greater  part  was  lost  when  the 
vessel  was  subsetjuently  burned. 

Toward  morning,  the  Peel  was  drawn  off  from  the  wharf,  and 
after  being  run  upon  a  point  of  shoal  about  thirty  yards  below, 
was  set  on  fire  and  abandoned.  Vox  some  time  the  flames  blazed 
aloft,  illuminating  the  shores  for  miles  around ;  but  about  dawn  in 
the  morning  she  once  more  got  adrift,  and  finally  sank  in  about 
seventy  feet  of  water.  It  was  nominally  the  intention  of  the  captors 
of  the  steamer  to  convert  her  into  a  gun-boat  and  use  her  against  the 
Canadian  Government ;  but  upon  finding  that  she  was  firmly  aground 
and  resisted  all  their  efforts  to  get  her  free,  they  fired  her  to  prevent 
her  recapture.  Hy  some  it  is  asserted  that  the  vessel  was  deliber- 
ately robbed  and  then  burned  to  prevent  detection  and  throw  an  air 
of  patriotism  over  the  crime  of  the  perpetrators. 


'ImoHg  the   '/'/lOHsnuit  /s/amfs. 


587 


^^>^.:.;^.  ■m;^^)g^^ 


lldCK     WIIKKK     rm.     SIP  AMIR    "I'lKI         W.\.S    Ml  HMD. 

Johnston  was  orijLjinally  a  British  sul)jict,  l)iil  turned  nni^Mclf, 
servinj,'  as  a  spy  in  tin;  war  of  1S12,  in  wiiich  capacity  in-  is  said  to 
have  roi)hc(l  the  mails  to  j^fain  intcllijLfcncc.  He  hated  iiis  native 
country  with  all  the  l)itterness  which  a  reneifade  alone  is  capable  of 
feelinj^-.  lie  was  one  of  the  (.'ariiest  a!L,dtators  upon  the  American 
side  of  the  horder,  and  was  the  one  who  instij,Mted  tin;  destruction 
of  the  /V(7.  A  reward  was  offered  !))•  the  j^fovernment  of  each 
country  for  his  apprehension,  —  so  he  was  compelled  to  take  to  th(! 
islands  for  safety.  Ilcrre  he  continut.-d  for  several  months,  though 
with  numhers  of  hair-hreadtli  esca])es,  in  which  he  was  assisted  hy 
his  daut^hter.  who  seems  to  have  heen  a  nohle  i,dri,  and  who  is  still 
living  at  Clayton.  Many  stories  are  told  of  remarkaMt;  acts  jxr- 
formetl  hy  him, — of  his  chokinij  u]>  the  inlet  of  the  Lake  of  the  Isle 
with  rocks,  so  as  to  prevent  vessels  of  any  size  entering;  that  sheet 
of  water ;  of  his  haviny;  a  skiff  in  which  he  could  oulspeed  any 
ordinary  sailiny^  craft,  and  whicii  he  carried  bodily  across  necks  of 
land  when  his  iMiemies  were  in  pursuit  of  him,  and  of  his  hidinu;  in 
all  manner  of  out-of-the-wa)  spots,  once  especially  in  the  I  )(;virs 
Oven,  previously  described,  to  which  his  daui^hter,  who  alone;  was  in 
his  confidence,  disi^uiseil  as  a  boy,  carried  provisions.  I  le  was  finally 
captured  and  sent  to  Albany,  where,  after  sufferinj^^  a  slight  penalty 


tiifi'' 


11 


588 


^ 


hnoii^  the  7'/ioiiS(iii(f  Islamis. 


IHl;    V 


i 


for  his  oflt'nsr.  he  was  siil)sc(|iu'iuly  ix'lfascil,  altliouj^h  he  was  always 
very  carefiil  to  keep  out  ol'  the  diitcli  of  the  iiulijuiuuit  Canailians. 
Mis  son.  Jolin  Johnston,  still  rcsiths  at  Clayton,  and  from  him.  alu-r 
sonic  prcssnn-,  a  part  of  this  inlorinaiiijn  as  to  his  latlur's  ailvintiin-s 
was  I'xtractrd. 

J  hcri'  is  ;i  certain  hrcath  of  lileahout  the  northern  rniUil  Stales 
and  the  nei^iiihorinj^  n-^^don  ol  Canada  suj^ft^n'slive-  even  in  niid- 
sinnnier  ol  hard  winters, — of  lonj;  months  wiien  the  late  ol'  ihc  St. 
l-awri'nce  is  as  adamant:  of  sn(»w  I\in^  four  feet  deep  all  winter 
without  intermission ;  an  imlescrihahh:  reminder  of  that  season  when 
a  Inii^i-  wood  lire  roars  in  the  e.ipacioiis  lire-plaee,  and  wiu-n  llu- 
l)i-llowin|Lj  wind  dashes  hissinjLj  snow  wreaths  in  amonjL,^  the  tossinjf 
and  writhinLi  pims  ami  iiemlocks,  Tlu're  is  a  riij^j^fe-d  look  ahoiit 
the  Kmdscape,  as  thonji^h  Nature,  not  darin|Lf  to  expend  her  strength 
in  the  labor  of  i,rrowin<4, — save  in  litlkr  serret  nooks  here  and  there. 
—  merely  rested  to  i^ain  frtsh  slrenj^th  for  her  jt-arly  tussii-  with 
}.,frim  winter.  The-  inhabitants  —  t;(nerally  fishermen — are  an  honest, 
roujL,di,  weather-beaten  set,  truthful. —  with  the  exception  of  lej^ends 
of  burieil  treasuri'.  or  perchance  wonderful  stori(;s  of  an  eijuht) -pounti 
muskalloni,re  or  two. — kinil-hearted  and  hospitable.  The  fisherman 
is  (juaint  in  dialect,  curious  in  manners,  with  tin-  invariable  storv 
of  the  luitje  fish  which  he  almost  cau_si[ht — antl  didn't.  ■  \W  sc 
a-JLjoin'  to  skitch  to-da\' ? "  in(|uires  he.  patronizint,d\-,  as  he  leans 
over  the  rail  of  the  sli|)  and  looks  down  into  the  boat,  where  the 
artist  is  makiui:;  sonu;  |)reparations.  "  \v  hadn't  oui^hter  lose  so 
much  time  from  fishin'."  Or.  "Where  be  \e  ter  dimn-r  (take 
luncheon)  to-ilay  ? "  An  island  where  it  is  customary  to  lake  picnic 
dinners  is  usually  denominated  a  "  dinnerin'-place." 

Sometimes,  rowinj:;-  home  at  ni,i.,dit.  one  passes  by  the-  bla/int^ 
fire  of  a  campiuL;  party,  twinkling  in  the  L,doom  of  some;  thickly 
wooiled  islet.  Around  the  fire  move  the  dark  forms  of  the  boatmen 
or  cook,  preparinif  llu-  evening;  meal.  To  one  side,  the  camp(,Ts 
themselves  lie  stretched  at  ease,  smokinj^.  or  talkin_i,r  over  the  day's 
sport. 

()n(!  of  the  i^reat  features  of  enjoyment  to  the  casual  visitor  to 
the  Thousand  Islands  consists  in  occasional  picnic  dinners — not  the 
ordinary  picnic  dinner,  where  a  table-cloth  is  spreail  ujjon  the 
ground,  and  cold  meats  and  sundries  upon  the  table-cloth  :   where 


y 


I  moil ^  the   I  ho  II  sand  hlniuh. 


589 


CAMPING    01  T. 


long-le)^f^L'd  spiders  or  ccntipcilcs  career  across  the  viaiuls  or  drop 
into  one's  cup  of  lukewarm  coffei; ;  hut  ilinners  as  luxurious  in  their 
bill  of  fare  as  any  «)f  the  hotels  can  afford,  combineil  with  all  the 
unfettered  gayety  incident  to  such  an  al  fresco  meal.  A  day's  fish- 
in<j  is  nominally  the  backbone  of  tiie  expeilition,  around  which  tin- 
day's  pleasure  is  actually  built.  We  will  suppose  that  the  party  of 
a  dozen  ladi(;s  anil  j^entlemen  is  formed,  and  the  day  planned  for  the 
expedition  arrived, — a  chtar,  sunny  one,  with  not  a  ripple  stirrinj^  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  stream.  Six  boats  are  hired,  a  jrentleman  and 
lady  jj;oini,f  in  each,  under  the  superintendence  of  a  fisherman,  which 
fishiirman,  if  lie  should  liappen  to  be  (icorsj^e  Campi)ell,  (jne  of  the 
Patterson  Mrothers,  McCue,  or  some  such  competent  hand,  may 
afford  his  luck\-  parlj-  a  day's  sport  that  of  itself  would  fully  satisfy  the 
expectations  of  most  peo|)le.  Perhaps,  if  the  fishinff-tfround  be  distant, 
a  steam  yacht  is  einra<red,  the  boats,  stretchinj^  in  a  long  line,  are 
taken  in  tow,  and  off  the  jolly  part)-  starts,  with  flags  flying  merrily. 


j  .< 


-f,i 


11 


■  '\ 


!*\! 


if 


■u 


iti ' 


t  Til 


it'' 


1>    :    . 


'■  i ; 


l',p!l' 


■41- 

I' 


; 

■    1 

1 

il 

.  1 

i4  'I 


590 


Among  the  7 /to  It  sand  Js/aiids. 


/ :  :j^i'fu:i.yi 


A    FISHING    PARTY. 


At  IcriLjth,  the  desired  spot  is  reached  and  the  sport  begins,  each 
party  fishing  as  if  their  lives  depended  upon  it,  and  all  internally 
praying  that,  if  a  monster  pickerel  or  nniskallonge  is  caught, — oi" 
which  there  may  he  about  one  chance  in  five  hundred, — they  may  be 
the  ])articular  ones  selected  by  I'"ortune  as  the  catchers  thereof  Hut 
whether  such  a  capture  is  made  or  not,  the  fishing  is  sure  to  be  fine, 
and  so  exciting  that  the  dinner  hour  approaches  without  notice  until, 
warned  by  the  shrill  whistle  of  the  little  steam-yacht,  the  boats  wend 
their  way  from  all  (juarters  to  the  "  dinnerin'-place." 

The  luncheon,  mind  you,  is  not  made  up  according  to  the  simple 
bill  of  fare  presented  at  the  desk  of  the  hotel,  composed  of  mere 
necessaries,  such  as  eggs,  bread  and  butter,  coft'ee,  and  fat  i)ork  ;  but, 
under  the  supervision  of  Isaac,  the  overseer  of  the  luncheon-room 
at  the  Thousand  Island  House,  it  crops  out  in  various  "extras" 
and  "sundries,"  in  the  shape  of  a  tender  chicken  or  two,  juicy  steak 
and  chops,  green  corn,  tomatoes,  and  'he  like.  The  fishermen  — 
excellent  cooks,  deft  and  cleanly  —  perform  the  task  of  preparing 
the  meal  with  wonderful  dispatch,  and  in  a  short  time  a  royal  repast 
is  laid  before  the  hungry  anglers,  whose  appetites,  whetted  ])y  health- 
ful exercise  and  invigorating  air,  do  ample  justice  to  the  feast.  After 
dinner,  while  the  fishermen  are  packing  away  the  dishes  and  other 


^■linong  the  Ihoitsand  Islands. 


59 » 


ct  cctcras,  the  hulies  n.'tirc  for  a  short  nap  ami  tlic  jrcntlcmcn  for  a 
social  cii^ar ;  then,  as  (jvcninj,^  approaches,  back  to  the  hotel,  there 
to  doff  the  flannel  shirts  and  fishing-dresses,  and  once  more  to 
assume  societ)-  clothes  and  manners. 

Many,  however,  prefer  solitary  sport,  or  with  a  company  of  two  or 
three  i^fenllemen  only;  and  hy  starting;  in  the  early  morning,  long  Irij^s 
can  he  made,  far  down  below  (irenadier  Island.  There,  in  the  more 
shallow  portions  of  the  river,  striped  with  long  beds  of  water-grasses, 
green  ami  purple,  unilisturbed  by  the  turmoil  anti  commotion  of 
passing  steam-boats,  tlu;  ind()k;nt  pickerel  lies  tranciuilly  in  the 
secluded  tangle  of  his  own  (;s|)ecial  retreat  ;  or  huge  black  l)ass, 
reaching  sometimes  to  the  weight  of  five  or  si.x  pounils,  stand  guard 
along  the  eiige  of  the  grass,  waiting  for  some  unwary  minnow  or 
perch  to  pass.     At  rare  intervals  are  spots  wlu-re  the  savage  mus- 

kallonge,    the    tiger    of    fresh- 
water   fish,   lies   hi(Klen   among 
the    water-grasses    in     solitary 
majest)'.       Sluggishly    Ik;    lies, 
glaring   with    his    savage    eyes 
to  right  and  left  of  him,  watch- 
ing   for    his   pre).      1  le   sees   a 
minnow  in  the  distance.  ap])ar- 
ently       twitching 
and  wriggling  in 
a    very    eccentric 
course  ;      a     mo- 
ment the  monarch 
poises        himst^lf, 
with  waving  fins, 
then,     a     sudden 
swet-'p       of       his 
majestic   tail,  and 
he    darts    like     a 
thunder-bolt    up- 
on   his     intended 
victim,     i  lie  n(.'\t 
moment  tlie  sharp 
agony       of      the 


I 


1'' 


.  f» 


coiiKivc   ,\  (  \\n 


i 

' 

til 

w 


m 


^i' 


■■;!■;■, 


r:  i  ■ 


592 


Aiuong  the   Thousand  Islands. 


f.viciiiNi;   A   miskai.I()X(;e. 


fisherman's  hook  is  in 
his  throat.  For  a  mo- 
ment he  Hes  in  motion- 
less astonishment;  then, 
as  he  feels  the  line  tighten 
and  discovers  he  is  in- 
deed caught,  he  struggles 
with  rage,  making  the 
water  eddy  and  swirl  with 
the  sweeps  of  his  powerful  tail,  and  causing  the  rod  to  bend  almost 
double.  This  way  and  that  he  darts,  mad  with  rage  antl  pain,  while 
the  line  hisses  as  it  spins  from  the  reel ;  but  in  vain ;  in  spite  of  all 
his  endeavors,  he  feels  the  tightening  line  drawing  him  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  surface.  Aeain  and  again  he  is  brought  to  the  side  of 
the  boat  only  to  dart  away  once  more,  until  at  last,  sullen,  exhausted, 
and  conquered,  he  lies  motionless  in  the  water  beside  tiie  victorious 
fisherman's  skift".  A  moment  more  and  the  gaff  strikes  his  side  and 
he  is  landed  safely  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 


Among  the  Thousand  Islands. 


593 


si'iAKisr.    liKi.s   IN    i:ki.   hay. 


"  Hurrah  !  a  twcnty-iJoundcr '" 

In  the  cirly  sprinj^,  when  the  shallows  of  Eel  Hay  or  other  sheets 
of  water  ot  the  same  kind  become  free  from  ice,  the  wat('r,  not 
being  dee[),  l^ecomes  warm  much  more  ([uickly  than  elsewhere,  and 
here  the  half-frozen  fish  cong'regate  in  ^n'eat  cjuantities.  The  pro- 
fessional fisherman  in  the  bow  of  the  boat  holds  a  spear,  in  shape 
like  a  trident,  but  with  an  alternate  sharp  iron  pron^-  between  each 
barbed  shaft,  the  whole  fixed  upon  a  lon^,  firm  handle.  Imme- 
diately upon  seeing  a  fish,  he  darts  this  gig  at  him,  fixing  the  barb 
so  effectually  in  his  victim  that  to  strike  is  to  capture  him.  The 
weapon  used  is  calked  a  jaw-spear,  from  its  peculiar  form,  being  a 
jaw-shaped  piece  of  wood,  with  a  sharp  iron  barli  firmly  fixed  in 
the  angle,  against  which  the  eels  nre  forced  and  pinned  fast  until 
they  are  safely  landed  in  the  boat.      I'^el -spearing  is  generally  |)ur- 

'38 


'  I, 


\ 


t 


1 

! 

!■    r 

r 

) 

'i 

1 

t 

;i 


I  I 


% 


Ml 


m 


If  'I 


i 

1 

1 

! 

\ 

Hi  j:^ 

594 


^imong  the   Thou  sand  Iskinds. 


sued  at  nij^ht,  not  only  because  the  water  is  usually  more  (juiet 
then  than  durini^  the  day-time,  but  also  because  the  light  of  the 
blazing  pine  chunks  in  the  "jack"  or  open  brazier  fixed  in  the  bow 
of  the  skiff  makes  objects  on  the  Ijottom  more  apparent  by  contrast 
with  the  surrounding  gloom. 

It  is  a  pictures(jue  sight  to  see  the  swarthy  forms  of  the  fisher- 
men, lit  up  in  the  circumscribed  circle  of  light,  looking  like;  phan- 
toms or  demons — the  iie  in  the  bow  bending  eagerly  forward, 
holding  the  spear  and  watching  the  bottom  keenly  for  his  victim  ; 
the  one  in  the  stern  silently  paddling  the  boat  across  the  motion- 
less water,  not  a  sound  breaking  the  stillness  of  night  but  the 
tremulous  "  I  lo-o-o-o"  of  the  screech-owl  or  the  crackling  of  pine 
chunks  in  the  jack.  Suddenly  the  figure  in  the  prow  poises  himself 
for  a  moment,  drives  his  spear  forward  through  the  water  with  a 
splash,  then  draws  it  l)ack  with  the  wriggling  victim  gleaming  in  the 
blazing  light  of  the  pine. 

In  June  there  is  fly-fishing,  and  fine  sport  it  is  to  cast  a  fly  so 
adroitly  as  to  tempt  a  plump  bass  in  the  seclusion  of  his  rocky  retreat 
beneath  the  overhanging  birches  along  the  bank,  and  fine  sport  to 
land  him,  too  ;  for  the  bass,  lusty  and  strong  through  good  living  and 
pure  water,  will  battle  with  the  sportsman  as  vigorously  as  ever  did 
dappled  trout,  struck  in  the  pools  of  Maine. 

Toward  summer,  the  fish  become  more  sluggish  and  refu.se  to 
strike  at  a  fly,  and  then  "  still  fishin';,"  with  live  minnows  for  bait,  or 
the  less  skillful  sport  of  "trolling"  takt;  the  place  of  fly-fishing.  Of 
trolling,  little  is  to  be  said.  The  lines  are  merely  trolled  from  the  stern 
of  the  boat ;  and  if  the  fish  biles,  unless  it  be  an  extraordinary  large 
one,  nothing  is  required  but  to  haul  him  in,  hand  over  hand,  and  land 
him  finally,  w  thout  any  skillfiil  handling,  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

With  still  fishing,  however,  more  skill  is  reiiuired.  As  a  sport  it 
occupies  the  intermediate  point  between  trolling  and  fly-fishing,  and, 
should  very  light  rods  be  used,  a  great  deal  of  sport  may  be  (obtained 
in  playing  and  landing  the  fish.  Nearly  all  the  boatmen,  upon  the 
least  encouragement,  will  recount  stupendous  stories  of  eighty-]Knmd 
muskallonge,  forty-jjound  pickerel,  or  eight-pound  bass.  The  largest 
fish  that  I  could  find  reliabU;  record  of  as  having  been  caught  and 
landed  were  a  muskallonge  fifty-one  pounds,  a  pickerel  twenty- 
seven,  and  a  black  bass  six  and  a  cjuarter. 


Among  the  Thousand  IsUinds. 


595 


Numbers  of  ducks  of  diftV  rent  varieties  frequent  tlie  hays  and 
inlets  of  the  Thousand  Islands  in  the  spring  and  autumn,  and  (|uan- 
tities  of  ruffed  ijrouse  are  found  upon  the  main-land,  so  that  the 
.shooting  is  said  to  he  excellent  in  its  season.  While  we  were  there, 
two  or  three  deer  were  said  to  have  come  from  the  main-land  to 
Wells  Island,  where  they  were  dilijj^ently  hunted,  hut,  so  far  as  we 
heard,  without  success. 

The  most  interesting.^  part  of  the  dt^elopment  of  this  rej^ion  as 
a  watering-place  is  ;.hat  which  relates  to  the  settlement  of  the  island.s 
by  private  residents.  The  islands  have  not  l)een  held  at  too  high  a 
price,  and  a  multitude  of  men  have  bought  them  and  built  houses 
upon  them  for  summer  use.  .Some  of  these  are  little  mc^re  than 
shelters  or  "  shooting-bo.xes  "  ;  some  are  comfortable  houses  ;  and 
several  are  expensiv(!  and  very  splendid  and  showy  places,  so  that  a 
passenger  on  a  river  steamer,  making  his  first  trip  down  the  stream, 
will  find  much  of  picturescjue  interest  in  glimpses  of  the  architecture 
which  greet  him  on  every  hand.  There-  is  no  chance  for  fighting 
over  boundary  lines,  and  some  of  the  lots  with  a  li(|uid  fence  are  so 
.small  that  their  owners  can  throw  a  fly  from  their  front  door-step  to 
the  bass  they  can  plainly  see  in  the  clear  water  which  is  never  dis- 
turbed by  a  freshet. 

There  are  summer  hotels  at  Clayton  and  other  points  along  the 
shore,  but  Alexandria  Bay  is  the  grand  center  of  the  summer  lif'.-. 
f)f  course,  the  Lake  Ontario  and  .St.  Lawrence  boats  from  all  parts 
touch  here,  and  there  is  a  daily  lint;  between  Ogdenshurg  and  Alex- 
andria Hay.  1 1  ere  are  the  great  hotels,  and  here  is  the-  multitude. 
The  village  contains  about  \\\ii  hundred  people,  with  two  churches  — 
a  Methodist  and  a  Dutch  Reformed  Pre.shyterian.  The  latter  is  a 
mission  church,  and  was  founded  by  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Hethune,  who 
was  a  famous  fisherman  in  his  day,  and  who,  in  his  summer  recrea- 
tions on  the  river,  did  not  forgcit  to  fish  for  men.  The  M(!thodists 
have  established  the  "  Thousaml  Island  Park,"  several  miles  above, 
where  they  come  in  great  numbers  every  year  for  recreation  and  a 
camp-meeting.  They  have  a  fine  dock  and  (|uite  a  number  of 
private  residences.  Westminster  Park  is  a  nc;w  enterprise.  .An 
association  has  purchased  '(wii  or  six  hundred  acres  of  Wells  Island, 
nearly  op|)osite  to  \\\v.  village  of  Alexandria  Hay,  and  the  enteri)rise 
is  now  in  the  full  tide  of  develoiJiuent.     POurteen  miles  of  road  have 


;  h 


ii 


l;i 


\\  \<l 


si 


iH 


:f 


^  I'll' 

1  :li 


L'i 


f 

j 

!• 

'' 

:[ 

f 

(?■  ; 

III: 

596 


Among  the  Tlioiisand  Islands. 


been  laid  out,  five  of  which  are  already  graded.  A  dock  has  been 
l)uilt  more  than  a  thousand  feet  long ;  and  hundreds  of  building  lots 
have  been  thrown  into  the  market.  Under  the  influence  of  this  great 
influ.x  of  visitors,  the  fishing  is  cjuite  likely  to  suffer ;  but  the  pure 
water  and  the  pure  air  that  sweep  down  the  mighty  channel  are 
enough  for  the  drinking  and  the  breathing  of  a  continent. 

Pleasant  are  the  recollections  of  the  place  of  which  some  aspects 
are  recorded  here ;  pleasant  for  all  reasons ;  pleasant  as  a  center 
of  watering-place  life ;  pleasant  for  hours  of  fishing  under  the  skill- 
ful guidance  of  (ieorge  Campbell;  and  doubly  pleasant,  delightful, 
for  hours  of  silent,  solitary  communion  with  Nature  in  tranquil 
bays  and  spicy  cedar  woods, — communion  sometimes  as  uninter- 
rupted as  though  we  belonged  to  a  different  sphere  from  this  earthly 
one  of  hurry  and  bustle;  a  place  of  legend  and  romance,  of  old  asso- 
ciations—  an  unfailing  fountain  of  interest  both  in  itself  and  its 
inhabitants. 


HONMi;    (.AnII.I;.      UWM.D    1)Y     I'liK    I.ATE    DR.  J.    C.   HOLLAND. 


I 


Kt  ' 


ii: 


Till-     SPLIT     HAMHOO     ROD.* 


ITS    HISIORV,     KTC. 


T\l\i  "split  bamboo" — "rent  and  ghicd  bamboo" — rod  has  been 
j^enerally  supposed  to  be  an  American  invention.  The  first  sphl 
bambt)o  rotl  I  t;ver  saw  or  lieard  of  was  made  by  Wm.  Hhicker, 
54  Dean  street,  Soho,  I^ondon,  anil  to  order,  for  James  Stevens,  an 
old  and  well-known  angler,  of  Hoboken,  N.  J.  This  was  in  1S52, 
and  it  was  given  to  me  for  repairs  and  alterations  in  that  yi-ar.  1 
am  certain  of  the  date,  as  I  made  a  rod  for  Mr.  Stevens  on  his  visit 
to  the  London  K.vhibition  in  185 1.  I  have  the  records  of  both  dates, 
taken  at  the  time,  so  that  no  mistake  can  be  made.  The  rod  is  still 
in  the  possession  of  the  family  of  Mr.  Stevens. 

The  first  attempt  to  give  the  history  of  the  split  bamboo  rod  in 
this  country,  that  1  have  been  able  to  find,  is  as  follows  :  .\.  Cj.  W'il- 
kinson,  Esq..  of  \Vashin_t,rton,  1).  C,  in  an  article  in  "  Scribner's 
Magazine"  (now  "The  Century")  for  October,  1876,  on  "Salmon 
Fishing,"  i)age  774,  says: 

"  I  have  taken  not  a  little  pains  to  get  as  far  as  possible  a  correct  liistory  of  this 
somewhat  remarkable  invention." 

Mr.  Wilkinson  gives  the  year  1866  as  the  one  in  which  Mr.  Phil- 
lippi,  a  gunmaker  of  Easton,  Pa.,  made  a  ghied-up  split  bamboo  rod 
in  three  sections,  or  part  of  one.  He  was  followed  by  Mr.  Cireen 
and  Mr.  Murphy. 

•Through  the  lourtesy  of  the  editor  (f -'The  American  Angler,"  we  are  permitted 
to  republish  the  following  articles  giving  the  history  of  the  split  bamboo  rtxl. 

38A 


>n 


l! 


It 


«' 


i 


m 

V  ii, 

I;  if:' 


598 


The  Split  Bamboo  Rod. 


\ 

ll 

>J|i 

1     4 

1 

iniH 

il 

r'^ 

Mil 

1  i 

P:tV '■  ,. 

:iir 


ll' 

i^ 

-1 

1 

I   ■ 

1  ■ 

.£:  1  I 


m , 


Dr.  Hcnshall,  in  his  "Hook  of  the  Black  Mass,"  pp.  201-203, 
under  the  cajjtion  of  ••  Orij^in  of  the  Split  Bamboo  Rod,"  says: 

"  For  though  purely  an  Amt-rican  invention  as  now  constructed,  the  idea  or  princi- 
ple is  n;ally  of  Knglish  origin." 

The  Doctor  then  ^nves  the  date  of  the  first  spHt  bamboo  rod 
made  in  this  country,  by  Samuel  Bhillippi,  as  about  1848;  but  all 
dates  are  from  memory,  and  I  believe  the  date  given  by  Mr.  Wilkin- 
son is  the  nearer  "pproach  to  the  correct  one.  Mr.  Phillippi  never 
made  a  (omplctc  rod  of  s|)lit  bamboo,  only  a  tip  and  joint  to  a  three- 
pieced  rod,  the  \w\X  oi  ash,  and  the  -joint  and  tip  made  in  three 
sections.      Mr.  P!iillippi  died  aboui  1878. 

Mr.  Murphy,  of  Newark,  N.  J.,  in  an  article  by  Mr.  B.  Phillips, 
on  the  origin  of  the  split  bami)oo,  published  in  the  New  York 
"Times,"  gives  the  date  as  1848  when  Mr.  Phillippi  used  the  natural 
bamboo,  and  subsequently  made  a  joint  of  bamboo. 

The  next  date  given  is  about  i860,  when  Mr.  K.  .\.  (ireen,  of 
Newark,  N.  j.,  made  the  first  complete  split  bamboo  rod.  This  date 
cannot  be  far  astray,  for  Mr.  Cireen  made  (that  is,  glued  up)  for  the 
trade  a  few  ;  and  1  find  my  record,  made  at  the  time,  to  be  .Sept.  1 6, 
1863.  These  rods  were  made  in  four  sections.  Mr.  Thaddeus  Norris, 
of  Philadelphia,  is  mentioned  in  connection  with  the  invention,  but 
he  never  claimed  it.  In  1863  or  1864,  Mr.  Murphy,  an  ac(|uaintance 
of  Mr.  Green,  commenced  to  manufacture  split  bamboo  rods  for  the 
trade  ;   these  were  in  four  sections. 

The  first  rods  constructed  in  six  sections  that  were  put  into  the 
market  were  made  by  Mr.  H.  L.  Leonard,  of  Bangor,  Me.  This 
was  about  1870,  and  Dr.  A.  H.  Fowler  soon  followed  ;  Mr.  Murphy, 
however,  claims  to  have  made  one  some  time  before. 

The  first  split  bamboo  rod  that  I  made  myself  was  in  June,  1869. 
It  was  put  together  in  four  sections  ;  made  not  of  Calcutta  bamboo, 
but  of  Chinese,  which  is  much  harder,  more  homogeneous,  and  more 
difficult  to  obtain  than  the  former. 

I  have  thus  tracetl  the  record  of  the  split  bamboo  rod  on  this  side 
of  the  "herring  pond,"  and  now  will  look  into  its  history  on  the 
other  side. 

Thomas  Aldred,  of  London,  claims,  and  I  have  never  seen  it 
disputed,  to  be  the  inventor  of  the  three-section  glued-up  bamboo 


side 
the 


The  split  Bamboo  Rod. 


599 


rod.  The  date  under  which  Mr.  Aldred  claims,  I  have  never  been 
able  to  find.  It  was,  however,  previous  to  the  Crystal  Palace  Exhib- 
ition in  1 85  I.  There  were  three  e.xhibitors  in  the  Exhibition  at  the 
Crystal  Palace  at  Eondon  in  1S51,  viz.:  Ainj^^e  &  Aldred,  J.  Ber- 
nard, and  J.  K.  I'^irlow.  The  rods  e.xhibited  were  all  of  three  long- 
itudinal sections,  the  whole  length  of  thi'  cane,  and  not  in  sections 
between  the  knots  and  },dued.  Aingt;  &  Aldred  also  exhibited  the 
.same  rod  at  the  I'^xhibition  in  1S53  at  New  York. 

I'lje  first  record  1  have  been  able  to  finil  of  the  construction  of 
the  split  bamboo  rod  is  in  Ephemera's  (lulward  I'itzj^MJjbon)  "Hanil- 
book  of  Anglinj,r,"  second  edition,  page  255,  Eondon,  184S,  where  he 
recommends  a  tip  for  a  salmon  rod  to  be  made  of  bamboo  cane  rent 
longitudinally  into  three  wedge-shaped  pieces,  then  glued  together 
and  reduced  to  the  proper  tapering  thickness,  ringed  and  whipped 
with  unusual  care  and  neatness.  He  adds:  "I  have  changed  my 
opinion  with  respect  to  rods  made  entirely  of  rent  cane  or  an)  other 
wood  rent.  Their  defects  will  always  more  than  counterbalance 
their  merits." 

I  have  not  been  able  to  see  a  copy  of  the  first  edition  of 
Ephemera's  book,  which  was  pui)lished  in  1844,  in  which  he  had 
evidently  recommended  the  rent  and  glued  rod,  the  jjook  not 
being  in  the  Eenox  or  .\stor  library  or  in  any  private  library  that 
I  know  of. 

1  now  quote  from  Blacker's  "  V\\  Making  and  .Angling,"  Eondon, 
1855,  page  82  : 

'■  The  rent  and  glued-up  Ijanihoo  <  ano  roils,  which  I  turn  out  to  tlie  greatest  per- 
fe(  tion,  arc  very  vahial)le,  as  they  are  very  light  and  powerful,  and  throw  the  line  with 
great  facility." 

The  first  edition  of  this  book,  jjublished  in  1842,  1  have  also  not 
been  able  to  consult.  The  author  was  a  |)ractical  rod-maker,  and 
made  the  split  jjamboo  rod  I  refer  to  in  the  beginning  of  this  article. 

In  1856  there  was  published  in  Eondon  an  I'dition  of  Walton's 
"Complete  .Angler,"  edited  by  Edward  Jesse,  with  notes  anil  papers 
on  fishing-tackle  by  the  publisher,  Henry  (i.  Bohii.  On  page  325, 
in  the  article  on  rods,  he  says  : 

"The  split  or  glued-up  rod  is  ditticult  to  make  well,  and  very  expensive.  It  is 
made  of  three  pieces  of  split  cane,  which  some  say  should  have  the  bark  inside,  some 
outside,  nicely  rounded." 


1 


,1 


1: 


'\\ 


I 

'  V  i  \ 

m 

;i  ji 
I?' I  ' 

If 

if,    ii- 


f 


m^ 


il 


r: 


!'■ 


ra''' 

i<' 

|i 

1 

*'" 

I  ■ 

h  1- 

ii 

■  U 


i 


1     i 


I      ■ 


i 


6oo 


V'/ic  split  Bamboo  Rod. 


In  January,  1857.  the  third  edition  of  "The  Practical  An^der," 
by  VV.  C.  Stewart,  was  pubHshed  in  Edinl)urgh.  On  |)aj,'e  33,  Mr. 
Stewart,  in  speaking  of  rods,  says ; 

•'  The  strength  of  hamboo  lies  in  the  skin,  .ind  in  order  to  turn  this  to  host  .iccount, 
rod-makers  lay  two  or  three  strips  together  so  as  to  form  a  complete  skin  all  around. 
Rods  are  sometimes  made  entirely  of  bamboo,  but  they  possess  no  advantage  over 
those  in  common  use  to  compensate  for  the  additional  expense,  a  twelve-foot  rod  of 
this  material  i  osting  ^3  to  ;^4." 

At  that  time,  bamboo  rods  were  all  made  in  three  sections,  with 
the  enamel  on  the  outside.  1  know  that  Mr.  Wilkinson  says  the 
rods  made  by  Alfred  &  Sons  were  jnit  together  with  the  enamel  on 
the  inside ;  but  I  think  this  must  be  a  mistake,  unless  he  means  that 
the  enamel  was  on  one  side  of  the  longitudinal  section  extending 
from  the  apex  to  the  base  of  the  triangle,  and  when  glued  is  from 
center  to  circumference.  Hut  put  the  outside  of  the  bamboo  on 
the  side  of  the  triangle  or  apex,  then  the  enamel  is  all  gone,  no 
matter  in  what  number  of  sections  the  rod  be  made. 

On  the  whole  subject  of  enamel,  there  is  much  misunderstanding. 
No  split  bamboo  rod  ever  was,  is,  or  can  be  made  with  the  enamel 
intact,  no  matter  what  number  of  sections  or  form  of  its  construction, 
for  the  following  reasons  : 

Calcutta  bamboo  {  Batiilmsa  aruiidinacca ),  which  is  the  bamboo 
used  for  making  rods,  is  one  of  the  most  useful  and  important  of  the 
grass  family,  and  consists  of  a  culm  or  cylinder  (except  at  the  nodes 
or  joints,  which  are  about  ten  to  fifteen  inches  apart)  and  a  solid  at 
the  nodes,  with  a  |)rojection  on  the  outsitlc  of  one -fiftieth  to  one- 
thirtieth  of  an  inch  all  arounil,  except  at  tlie  axil,  where  the  branches 
grow  on  alternate  siiles.  This  projection  has  to  be  taken  off  in 
making  the  rod;  then  gtiing  through  the  thickness  of  the  i-nami'l 
from  five  to  eight  times,  for  the  space  of  from  one  to  two  inches  at 
each  node,  t)f  which  there  are  three  in  each  of  the  six  sections 
(which  is  the  best  numbcT  of  sections  from  which  a  split  bamboo 
rod  can  ])e  made).  These  nodes  lieing  the  weakest  spot  in  the 
bamboo,  in  gluing  up  the  sections  they  are  never  put  on  a  line  \\\\\\ 
one  another,  but  one  is  moved  up,  say,  two  inches  ;  the  next  down 
two  inches,  so  as  to  make  six  less  weak  sjjots  in  the  circumference 
of  the  joint  and  eighteen  in  each  joint. 


The  S/)lit  nainboo  Rod. 


6oi 


All  thu  Calcutta  bamboo  importet!  into  this  country  or  lui^iantl 
is  jjurneil,  before  bein^  exportcil,  with  a  red-hol  iron  of  elliptit  form 
and  from  one- half  to  thri:i'-(|uartL;rs  of  an  inch  wide,  which  ilestroys 
the  stronjjest  hljer  immediately  in  contact  with  the  enamel,  and 
loosens  the  latter,  so  thai,  by  estimate,  about  one-fifth  of  the  enamel 
comes  off  in  the  workinjf.  As  you  cannot  retain  it  all  on  the  roil, 
it  is  just  as  stronij  if  all  the  enamel  is  taki-n  off;  in  fact,  the 
enamel,  or  silex,  on  the  outside  of  the  bamboo  only  stiffens,  but 
tloes  not  strenj,rthen  it.  Cllass  is  melted  silex,  and  no  one  would 
think  a  rod   was  strenjjjtheneil  by  .uiviujj^  it  a  coat  of  silex  varnish. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  fore^oinjf  that  in  iS4<S  {Ephemera's 
"  Hand-book  on  An}.Jlin},^"  second  edition,  mentions  the  couiplclc  three- 
section  split  bamboo  rod  as  beini;  in  use  in  b!nj,dand.  and  that  the 
first  edition  of  this  book,  published  in  1S44,  has  reference  to  the 
same  rod.  In  1S51,  rods  of  similar  make  w(.'re  exhibited  at  the 
Crystal  Palace  by  three  manufacturers,  ami  two  other  writers  on 
anglinjj  mention  the.se  rods  in  their  books,  published  in  1S55  and 
1856.  The  earliest  date  of  manufacturi?  in  .America  of  the  loinfilctc 
split  bamboo  rod  is  that  of  i860,  when  Mr.  (Irec-n,  of  Newark,  N.  J., 
made  a  few  rods  of  this  character. 

Wiii.iAM   Mriciii'.i.i . 


.Since  rt^adinjj^  the  interesting^  and  valuable  article  i)y  my  old 
friend,  Mr.  William  Mitchell,  *  *  *  1  \y^x\(:  consulted  a 
modest  anj.flin_i;'  library  (which  has  alwa\s  been  at  iiis  service,  as  he 
well  knows),  and  found  that  it  contains  both  the  works  which  he  was 
desirous  of  seeino^. 

The  first  iHJition  of  tlie  "  1  land-l)o()k  of«.\niL;lin_i;'."  bv  "  l^phc- 
mera"  (lulward  iMtzj^ibbon),  was  published  in  1S4;.  not  1S44,  ;uul 
it  was  owiny-  to  this  mistake  as  to  date,  no  doubt,  thai  it  was  not  to 
be  found  "in  the  Lenox  or  .\stor  lii)rary.  or  in  any  pri\ate  librar)-." 

Mlacker's  first  edition  (1842)  1  tlismiss  from  the  tliscussion.  as  it 
contains  no  allusion  to  the  construction  of  s|)lit  bamboo,  or  to  anv 
kind  of  rod,  in  fact,  but  is  devoted  to  the  ".Xrt  of  an_niin_i,f  and  com- 
plete system  of  fly-makiuL;  antl  ilyeini^-  of  colors." 

Mr.  I'itztjibbon,  in  tiie  first  (.'dition  of  his  work,  pp.  z'j'is  cf  sc(/.,  in 
speaking  of  the  construction  of  a  salmon  rod,  says  that  he  consulted 


{ 


w 


u 


li 


ill 


!   ■ 


602 


'/'/if  split  Bamboo  Rod. 


a  "Mr.  Littli.',  of  15  I-'cttcr  l.aiic,  rod-maker  to  His  Royal  Ilij^hiu.'ss, 
Prince  Albert,"  who  clcscril)ctl  the  process  of  inakiii)^  tiie  top  and 
middle  joints  thus  : 

•'  They  arc  to  l)c  made  Irom  the  stoutest  pieces  of  liainlxio  cane,  failed 'jungle,' 
and  l)rounlit  from  Imlia.  'I'he  pieces  should  be  large  aiul  strai^jlit,  so  that  you  «an 
rend  them  well  throuj;h  knots  and  all.  Kach  joint  should  lonsist  of  three  rent  pieces, 
split  like  the  foot  of  a  portable  jjarden  chair,  and  al'terward  jjlued  lum'ther,  knot  oppo- 
site to  knot,  or  imperfect  Kram  opposite  to  imperfet  t  grain,  hut  the  liest  [lart  opposite 
to  that  which  may  be  knotty  or  imperfect,  so  as  to  eijuali/e  tlefei  tiveness  and  good- 
ness. The  natural  badness  of  the  cane  you  counteract  by  art,  and  none  save  a  clever 
workman  <an  do  it.  The  butt  of  a  sahnon  rod  should  be  made  of  plank  ash  or  groinul 
ash,  though  many  good  judges  prefer  willow  or  red  deal,  as  being  nnu  h  lighter,  and 
where  lightness  is  re(|uired  the  whole  roil  may  lie  made  of  cane.  The  few  makers  that 
have  as  yet  altemjjted  solid  cane  or  gluedup  rods  have  generall)  plai  ed  tiie  bark  or 
hardest  part  of  the  cane  inside  in  gluing,  and  then  reduced  the  joints  down  on  the 
outside  to  the  usual  tapering  shape,  (live  me,  however,  the  workman  who  glues  the 
splices  with  the  i)ark  outside,an(l  then  gives  his  rotl  a  true  and  correc  t  action,  allowing  the 
three  different  barks  to  be  seen  visibly  (»n  the  outside  after  he  has  rounded  the  whole. 

•'  If  the  pieces  arc  skillfully  glued  together  tiiey  will  re(|uire  no  reduc  ing,  e\(  ept  at 
the  corners,  to  bring  the  rod  Irom  the  three-sijuare  to  the  round  shape.  I  am  prepared 
to  i)rove  that  there  are  not  more  than  three  men  in  London  capable  of  making,  per- 
fectly, rods  of  solid  cane,  rent,  glueil,  and  then  correctly  finishe<l  with  tiie  b.irk  lying  on 
the  outside." 

Mr.  Fitz^ibbon  ^oes  on  to  say  : 

"  In  my  opinion,  rods  made  entirely  of  lancewood  are  the  worst ;  and  those  made 
entirely  of  rent  ami  glued  jungle  cane  are  the  best.  They  must  be  most  carefully  fash- 
ioned, and  no  maker  can  turn  them  out  without  charging  a  high  price.  I  am  also  of 
opinion  that  tiiey  will  last  longer  than  any  other  sort  of  rod.  and  arc  tar  less  liable  to 
war|)ing.  1  ha\e  a  high  opinion  of  their  elasticity,  and  .Mr.  liowness,  hshing- tackle 
maker,  of  No.  12  Hellyard,  Temple  liar,  showed  me  once  a  trout  tly-rod.  made  in 
this,  mv   favorite  way,   tluU  luiJ  lu-iii  fi>r  many  xiws  in   iisr  [the  italics    are   mine  — 

L.  1).  .\.|  and  was  still  straight  as  a  wand.      I  never  saw  a  better  single-handed  rod." 

■ 

Allowinj,^  a  reasonable  construction  to  tlie  e.\pression.  "  for 
many  years,"  this  would  seem  to  show  that  roils  of  "  rent  and 
juncrle  cane"  were  made  as  far  back  as  ICS30-40. 

It  would  be  interestinij  to  know  what  led  to  the  sudden  chanj^e 
of  opinion  as  to  the  merits  of  such  rods  of  "  I^phemera  ";  that  is 
to  sav.  within  the  space  of  a  twelvemonth  —  the  period  which  elapsed 
between  the  dates  of  publication  of  the  first  and  second  editions  of 
his  book.  As  a  not  absolute  disbeliever  in  bamboo  rods,  I,  for  one 
at  least,  confess  to  a  good  deal  of  curiosity  upon   this  point. 

L.VWKKNCK    I).    Ai,k\.\M)i;k. 


On  titv  Invention  of  tliv  Reel. 

ON   TIIK   INVKNtloN   nK  niK   KKKI.. 
HV   AlKMHi    \1.    MwiK. 


603 


TiiK  first  nu-ntion  of  the  rct-l  I  have  Ijl-i'ii  ahU:  to  fiml  is  the 
following,'  passage  taken  from  liarker'>  "Art  of  Anglinj^,"  London, 
1651. 

"  Within  two  fool  of  I'll  hottiiin  of  the  roil  tluTc  was  :i  lioli-  made  for  to  put  in 
a  wind,  to  turn  with  a  harrcll  to  >.'athur  up  his  lino,  and  loose  at  his  pleasure." 

In  the  second  edition  of  this  work,  1657,  the  author  says: 

"You  must  have  your  winder  within  two  foot  of  the  bottom,  to  ^oe  on  your  rod 
made  in  this  manner,  with  a  spring,  that  you  may  put  it  on  as  low  as  you  please." 

In  Izaak  Walton's  "Coinijlcat  .Anj^der,"  London,  1655,  p.  189, 
second  eiUtion,  in  Chap.  \'il.,  conlainin.i,^  "Observations  of  the 
Sahnon,  with  Directions  how  to  I'ish  lor  Hini,"  is  this  passai^c' ; 

•'Note  also,  that  many  use  to  fish  for  a  Salmon  with  a  ring  of  wire  on  the  top  of 
their  rod,  through  which  the  line  may  run  to  as  great  a  length  as  is  needful  when  he  i., 
hooked.  .\nd  to  that  end,  some  use  a  wheel  about  the  middle  of  their  rod,  or  ncai  their 
hand,  which  is  to  be  observed  better  by  seeing  one  of  them  than  by  a  large  demnii- 
stration  of  words." 

But  it  appears  from  the  directions  how  to  an}.,de  yfivcn  in  this 
work  that  neitlier  Walton  nor  Cotton  made  use  of  the  reel.  Also, 
the  passaj^e  just  (|iiott:d,  which  mentions  the  reel,  does  not  e.xist  in 
the  first  edition  of  the  "Compleat  An_s.,der,"  published  in  1653. 

Ainonjr  the  objects  composing  the  frontis])iece  to  "The  l^.xpe- 
rienc'd  Angler;  or.  .\ngling  Improved,"  b\-  Col.  Robert  X'enables, 
London,  1662,  is  a  good  re|)resentation  of  a  reel  or  winch.  In  this 
work  occur  the  following  directions  as  to  the  use  of  the  reel: 

"The  next  way  of  angling  is  with  a  tr.ili  for  the  I'ike.  which  is  \ery  delightful;  you 
may  buy  your  troll  ready  made,  therefore  I  shall  not  trouble  myself  to  describe  it.  only 
let  it  have  a  winch  to  wind  it  witliall.  #»*•*•  ;,|„(  thj-j,  y„i,  p,^y 
certainly  conclude  he  hath  ijouc  hed  yijur  bait,  and  rangeth  abroad  no  more;  then 
with  your  troll  wind  ui)  your  line,  till  you  think  you  have  it  almost  straight:  then  with 
a  sharp  jerk  hook  him,  and  make  your  pleasure  to  your  content.  •*»*•• 
The  Salmon  takes  the  artific  ial  fly  very  well ;  but  you  must  use  a  troll,  as  for  the  Pike, 
or  he,  being  a  strong  fish,  will  hazard  your  line,  except  you  give  him  length." 


fl 


H  I 


V 


!     \a'- 


:fl 


,(      i     ■!l'      •■!, 

"Am 


Ms 

■■'■  iiil 


;  1    ■.J  '  ^ 


Miji! 


•:•  1! 


't  it- 

jl  i 


604  The  Artificial  Fly  ami  Silk-lVoym  Cut. 

Juliana  Hornt-rs,  in  her  "  Trcatysc  of  I-'ysshyngc  with  an  Anglo,' 
prinUxl  in  1496,  docs  not  spfuk  of  tho  red. 


ON    IIIK   oKKilN    ol'    IIIK   AK  lll'ICIAl,   Kl.V    WD    rilh:   SII.K-WoKM   K\V\ . 


Ilv    Ai.i-KKi>    M.   Mavi-.r. 


filjtl 


»*. 


"Who  lias  not  seen  tlic  scat  us  rise, 
Decoy'd  ami  caught  by  frautlful  Hies?" 

Mariiai,,  a.  I).  43-104. 

Till',  earliest  explicit  account  of  the  use  of  the  artificial  fly  is  by 
yl^liaii.  a  Latin  author  of  th<;  early  part  of  the  third  century.  In  his 
"  I)e  Natura  .Animaliuni."  a  work  originally  written  in  (ireek,  we 
reatl : 

"I  have  heard  of  a  Macedonian  way  of  catching  fish,  and  it  is  this:  Hctween 
Heroca  and  Thessalonica  runs  a  river  called  the  ,\stra(  us.  and  in  it  there  are  fish  with 
spotted  (or  speckled)  skins;  what  the  natives  of  the  country  call  them  you  had  better 
ask  the  .Macedonians.  These  fish  'iatzA  on  a  tly  which  is  i)eculiar  to  the  country,  and 
which  hovers  over  the  river.  It  is  not  like  flies  found  elsewhere,  nor  does  it  resemlile 
a  wasp  in  ai)i)earance,  nor  in  shape  would  one  justly  descrihe  it  as  .1  midge  or  a  hee  ;  it 
imitates  the  color  of  the  wasp,  and  it  hums  like  a  hee.  The  natives  call  it  Hippouros. 
As  these  tlies  seek  their  food  over  the  water,  they  do  not  esca])e  the  observation  of  the 
fish  swimmin};  below.  When,  then,  a  t'lsh  observes  a  tly  hovering  above,  it  swims 
quickly  up,  fearing  to  agitate  the  river,  lest  it  should  scare  away  its  prey;  tlien  coming 
u])  by  its  shadow,  it  ojjens  its  jaws  and  gulps  down  th  ■  'ly,  like  a  wolf  carrying  otl"  a 
sheej)  from  the  tlock  or  an  eagle  a  goo.se  from  the  t.,  »  )■■  .'  Having  done  tiiis,  it 
withtlraws  under  tlie  rippling  water.  .\ow,  though  the  f'^iieimen  know  of  this,  they  do 
not  use  these  Hies  at  all  for  bait  for  tlie  fish  ;  tor  if  a  man's  hand  touch  them,  they  lose 
their  color,  their  wings  decay,  and  they  become  unfit  for  food  for  the  tish.  l''or  this 
reason,  they  have  nothing  to  do  with  them,  iiating  them  for  their  bad  character  ;  but 
they  have  planned  a  snare  for  the  fish,  and  get  the  better  of  them  by  their  fisherman's 
craft.  'I'hey  fasten  red  (crimson-red)  wool  round  a  hook,  and  tU  on  to  the  wool  two 
feathers,  which  grow  under  a  cock's  wattles,  and  which  in  color  are  like  wax.  Their 
rod  is  six  feet  long,  and  the  line  is  of  the  same  length.  Then  they  throw  their  snare, 
and  tlie  fish,  attracted  and  maddened  by  the  color,  ( omes  up,  thinking,  from  the  [iretty 
sight,  to  get  a  dainty  mouthful.  When,  however,  it  opens  its  jaws,  it  is  caught  by  the 
hook,  and  enjoys  a  bitter  rejiasl  —  a  captive." 

Suhsecpu^nt  to  /l^lian's  time,  tly-llshing  is  not  mentioned  by  any 
author  till  Dame  Juliana  Berners,  in  1496,  writes  of  it  as  a  mode 
of  angling  well  known,  for  she  introduces  the  subject  abruptly,  as 
follows  : 


as 


l^y eight  and  Length  of  Brook -Trout.  605 

"  Thysf  ben  the  xij  tlyes  wyth  whyclie  ye  sliall  angle  to  ye  trought  S:  grayllyng  ; 
and  (lul)l)e  lyke  as  yc  shall  now  here  me  tell." 

She  then  describes  "the  clonne  flye.  a  nother  tloone  five,  the 
stone  flye,  the  yelowe  flye,  the  black  louper,  the  clonne  ciitte, 
the  niaure  flye,  the  taudy  flye,  the  waspe  flye,  the  shell  flye, 
and  the  drake  flye,"  and  j,Mves  the  months  \.o  which  they  are  espe- 
cially adapted.    An  idea  of  her  description  is  jriven  in  the  follo\vin,i,': 

"  In  the  begynnynge  of  Maye,  a  good  flye,  the  body  of  roddyd  wull  iV  lappid 
abowte  wyth  blacke  sylke  :  the  wynges  of  the  drake  &  of  the  redde  capons  hakyll." 

Dr.  Hethiine  says.  "The  twelve  flies  in  the  Herner's  Treatise 
are  the  substratum  of  the  mystery  Colton  has  built  up  wisely  and 

correctly." 

"James  Saunders,  in  his  '  Compleat  Kisherman,'  London,  1724,  is  the  first  rt//.(,V///A' 
author  who  mentions  silk-worm  gut  (pp.  91-92) ;  but  I'epys,  in  his  diary,  says  (March 
18,  1667):  'This  day  Mr.  Caesar  told  me  a  preUy  experiment  of  his  angling  with  a 
minikin,  a  guU-string  varnished  over,  which  keeps  it  from  swelling,  and  is  beyond 
any  hair  for  strength  and  smallness.  The  sei  ret  I  like  mightily '  (Vol.  Ill,,  p.  171, 
K.lition  1828).  A  writer  in  the  "  I'iel.l"  (Jan.  2,  1864),  on  the  subject  of  silk-worm  gut, 
says:  'About  three  months  since,  Mr.  (leo.  Howness,  of  Hellyard,  shewed  me  an  ad- 
vertisement of  his  grandfather's,  date  1760,  announcing  that  the  new  artkU;  silk-worm 
gut,  is  to  be  had  there.  This  i.retty  nearly  fixes  the  date  .jf  its  introduction  into  the 
tackle  trade.'  " —  I'rom  liihlwilu-ai  I'hcatona. 


RKLATION   BKTWICEN   TIIK   WKICIM'    AXD    LKVOTII    OF   RKUOK-TkUi;'! . 

liV    W.     lIoDdSlIN      Kl.l.IS. 


Two  summers  aj,^o  I  formed  one  of  a  litde  party  of  anj^ders  who 
spent  the  first  three  weeks  of  July  and  the  fust  week  of  August  on 
the  north  shore  of  Lake  Siii)erior.  While  there  w(;  made  a  number 
of  careful  obsc;rvations  of  the  w(;it,dit  and  len«(th  of  the  trout  we 
cau,irht.  The  result  of  these  observations  I  have  collected  in  a  table, 
showin^^  the  avera.t^e  weij^ht  correspondinj,^  to  each  inch  in  U^n^nh 
from  thirt(;en  to  twenly-lhrc;e  inches,  the  number  of  observations 
from  which  each  avera<;e  was  determined,  and  also  the  correspontl- 
inj^r  weiffhls  calculated  on  the  assumption  that  the  weii,dit  varies  as 
tilt;  cube  of  the  len,L(th. 

Two  conclusions  may  be  drawn  from  these  observations'  I'irst, 
that  under  similar  conditions  all  trt)ut  have  the  same  shape.  Secondly, 
that  they  ^xow   symmetrically  ;    that  is,  a  five  pounder  is  the   same 


1 
in  it 


fll 


I 


It;: 


v\ 


J  if 

'I  ''I 


!    I, 


i     f;,|f  ,1 


f: 


/ 


ry 


§y 


606 


Weight  and  Length  of  Brook -Trout. 


shape  as  a  pounder.  It  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  these  conclusions 
can  only  be  true  under  similar  conditions.  We  cannot  compare  well- 
fed  trout  with  half-starved  ones,  nor  trout  full  of  spawn  with  those 
not  in  that  condition.  Nor  have  we  any  right  to  suppose  that  figures 
deduced  from  observation  on  Lake  Superior  trout  will  apply  to  those 
caught  elsewhere. 

The  growth  of  a  trout  takes  place  in  three  dimensions — length, 
breadth,  and  thickness ;  and  if  the  growth  is  symmetrical,  each  of 
these  dimensions  will  increase  in  the  same  proportion.  Thus,  if  one 
fish  is  twice  as  long  as  another,  he  will  also  be  twice  as  thick  and 
twice  as  deep.  He  will,  therefore,  be  eight  times  as  heavy.  In 
other  words,  the  weight  varies  as  the  cube  of  the  length. 

If,  then,  we  divide  the  cube  of  the  length  of  a  trout  by  the  cube 
of  the  length  of  a  pound  trout,  we  shall,  if  the  trout  grows  symmet- 
rically, obtain  the  weight  of  that  trout  in  pounds. 

We  see  by  the  table  that  the  length  of  a  pound  trout  is  thirteen 
inches,  but  as  this  number  is  only  founded  on  one  observation,  it  will 
not  do  to  base  our  calculations  upon  it. 

We  can,  however,  from  the  length  of  a  four-pound,  three-and-a 
half-pound,  three-pound,  and  two-and-a-half  pound  trout,  calculate 
what  the  length  of  a  pound  trout  ought  to  be.  We  find  that  the 
numbers  obtained  from  all  these  four  starting  points  agree  e.xactly  ; 
and  hence  we  obtain  the  number  13.17  inches  as  the  length  of  a 
pound  trout.  The  cube  of  13.1;  is  2286;  and  hence,  if  zy=the 
weight  in  pounds,  and  / — the  length  in  inches,  of  any  trout: 

/•■ 


2286 


The  correspondence  between  the  numbers  calculated  by  this 
method  and  tho.se  found  by  ob.servation  is  rendered  still  more  strik- 
ing, if  we  express  them  grajjhically,  by  representing  the  length  on 
a  horizontal  scale,  and  drawing  at  each  inch  a  perpendicular  propor- 
tion to  the  weight.     *     *     * 

Th<i  result  will  be  a  regular  curve,  almost  coincident  with  that 
obtained  from  the  formula  given  above. 

Our  trout  were  almost  all  caught  in  tlie  lake,  off  rocky  points, 
and  at  the  mouths  of  small  streams.  They  were  in  excellent  con- 
dition. The  average  weight  of  our  whole  catch  was  two  and  a  half 
pounds. 


IVeigkt  and  Length  of  Brook -Trout. 


607 


Curve  showing  the  relation  l)etween  the  length  and  weight  of  iirook-trout. 
The  continuous  heavy  line  represents  tlie  results  of  observation. 
The  dotted  line  shows  where  the  theoretical  curve  differs  from  that  obtained  by 
observation. 


IS       u       It       It       1 

INCHES 
7            It            1 

1       a.        3 

1        11       ij 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

/ 

»/». 

/ 

z5 

31 

/ 

Ox 

^ 

/ 

/ 

y 

y 

y 

1} 


u 


df-- " 


S3HDN1 


lo 


Length  in  inches. 

23 
22 
21 
20 

19 
18 

17 
16 

•5 
'■^ 
13 


Number  of  observation: 


6 
12 

9 

9 
10 

9 
6 

3 
I 


( )bser\ ed  average 
weight  in  lbs. 


l\i 


4K 
4 


n 


i3 


Calculated  from  for- 
mula    If 

22S6 
5-32 
4-65 
4.05 

3-5° 
3.00 

2-SS 

2-IS 
1.79 
1.48 
1.20 

.96 


'    f 


\ 
i 


I 


% 


\  !  , 


I  'A 


•jii 


i  il 


,.| 


a;'!  I 


608 


IVcight  and  Length  of  Brook -Trout. 


The  foregoing  article  by  Mr.  W.  Hodgson  Ellis,  of  the  School 
of  Practical  Science,  Toronto,  Canada,  is  here  reprinted  by  per- 
mission of  the  author  and  the  editor  of  "  The  American  Angler," 
in  which  journal  it  was  first  published. 

Mr.  Ellis  has  put  to  the  tests  of  measure  and  weight  the 
opinions  which  Sir  Humphrey  Davy  thus  gives  expression  to 
in  his  "Salmonia;  or.  Days  of  Fly  Fishing."  Edit.,  Lond., 
185 1,   p.  32. 


•Sr  :' 


PoiETES. — This  great  fish  that  Ornitherhas  just  caught  must  be  nearly  of  the  weight 
I  assigned  to  him. 

Halikus. — Oh,  no!  he  is.  I  think,  above  5  lbs.,  but  not  6  lbs. ;  but  we  can  form 
a  more  correct  opinion  by  measuring  him,  which  1  can  easily  do,  the  butt  of  my  rod 
being  a  measure.  He  measures,  from  nose  to  fork,  a  very  little  less  than  twenty-four 
inches,  and  conseciuently,  upon  the  scale  which  is  appropriate  to  well-fed  trout,  should 
weigh  5  lbs.  10  0/,., —  which,  within  an  ounce,  I  doubt  not,  is  his  weight. 

Fhvsicus. — Oh !  I  see  you  take  the  mathematical  law,  that  similar  solids  are  to 
each  other  in  the  triplicate  ratio  of  one  of  their  dimensions. 

Halif.us. — You  are  right. 

Phvsicus. — Hut  1  think  you  are  below  the  mark,  for  this  appears  to  me  to  be  an 
extraordinarily  thick  fish. 

Halikus. —  He  is  a  well-fed  fish,  but  in  proportion  not  so  thick  as  my  model,  which 
was  a  fish  of  seventeen  inches  by  nine  inches,  and  weij'hed  2  lbs.;  this  is  my  standard 
solid.  We  will  try  him.  Ho!  Mrs.  B.,  bring  your  sca.es  and  weigh  this  fish.  There, 
you  see,  he  weighs  5  lb.  io)4  oz. 


li  r 


The  following  relations  I  found  to  e.xist  between  the  length  and 
weight  of  trout  caught  in  the  head-waters  of  the  Androscoggin  and 
Dead  Rivers  in  Franklin  County,  Maine : 


Length. 
^y^  inches 


Weight. 
y^  pound. 


Length. 
12^  inches 
14 


Weight. 
^  pound. 


The  relations  are  the  results  of  many  measures  and  weighing.s,  and 
will  serve  to  supply  the  length  and  weight  of  trout  smaller  than  those 
given  in  Mr.  Ellis's  table. 

It  appears  that  the  Lake  Superior  trout  are  stouter  than  those 
of  the  Maine  waters  above  named,  for  I  have  found  from  many 
measures  that  a  Maine  brook-trout  of  one  pound  weight  meas- 
ures exactly  fourteen  inches  from  tip  of  nose  to  middle  of  end 
of  caudle  fin.     Mr.   Ellis    gives    13.17   inches  for   the  length    of  a 


'•M. 


Biii" 


IVcight  and  Length  of  Brook -Trout. 


609 


pound   trout.      In    applying  his  formula  to  the    trout   of  Maine,  it 
should  read :  t' 


w 


2744 


Sir  Humphrey  Davy's  statement,  that  an  English  trout  { Sahuo 
fario)  1 7  inches  long  weighs  2  lbs.,  agrees  to  %  lb.  with  the  weight 
of  an  American  brook-trout  ( Salvclinus  fontinalis)  17  inches  in 
length,  as  given  in  Mr.  Ellis's  table.  If  we  take  the  weight  of  this 
sized  trout  as  given  by  the  theoretic  curve  of  Mr.  Ellis's  diagram,  it 
will  differ  only  2  oz.  from  the  weight  of  Sir  Humphrey  Davy's  17- 
inch  fish. 

If  a  stick  be  notched  at  distances  from  one  of  its  ends  equal 
to  those  corresponding  to  the  lengths  of  trout  of  from  "4:  lb.  to  5  lbs. 
in  weight,  it  might  serve  the  double  purpose  of  a  club  wherewith 
mercifully  to  kill  the  trout  as  soon  as  caught  by  giving  him  a  blow 
back  of  the  head,  and  to  serve  as  a  standard  of  measures  wherewith 
our  "brother  of  the  angle"  may  obtain  the  weight  of  his  fish,  and 
thereby  put  a  bridle  on  his  imagination,  and  make  of  himself  a 
truthful  man  when  he  speaketh  of  the  great  weights  of  fish  caught  in 
certain  waters. — [Editor.] 

*  This  law  will  not  hold  good  for  Maine  trout  over  five  or  six  pounds  in  weight, 
for  after  they  have  reached  that  weight  they  do  not  grow  symmetrically,  but  become 
obese.  In  a  letter  from  Mr.  Ellis,  referring  to  the  trout  whose  weight  and  length  are 
given  in  the  above  table,  he  says;  "Our  trout  were  beautiful,  symmetrical  fellows,  and 
in  capital  condition." 


39 


K'l 


t  I: 


N 


1    ;,i  I . 


■  ■  ♦ 


\    ;; 


';•    jl 

jUj 

J 

\t\- 

y.   4  :%\\ 

^  f  !'■ 

i 

h 

i 


*<  w 


^^ 


U'   \ 


mm 


III 


1 

i 

1 

tI^^B 

■n 

tlj^B 

i . 

1 

li^H 

FEATHERED   GAME 


11 

■  1 

Ij 

'^■-I 

I 


I  i 


P 


',ri; 


"« llf 


1 

ml 

I'l 

J  i 

: 

l'H\  ''.    -fe 

lih   t 

;tJ;i 

II 

! 

il-ii 

i|;r 

',' 

^'i^ 

;  1 

2  i, 

1 

'i':i 

k 

UMlli  ^ 


11 


1??:  ■  :  m 


m 


I  i. 


it 


Tmrctlur  /,/  ns  lu\tl  this  aiiif)!,-  //,/,/, 
Try  ;.■//,?/■  ///,•  ,./.,v/,  ;.■//,(/  ///<■  ,■,<;■,■;-/   )'/,/,/. 


In 


m  ;1  t- 


i 

'  1  ■ 

] 

(■^ 

[ 

"1 

■    ' 

i 

! 

>:•       ^  ! 


s 


'■:     ii 


I. 


r  ■ 


h 


■i  f 


mM 


m 


^ 


m 


m 


n.|M 


r  ■ 

1:1 

i 

i 

'J  i" 

■     i 

i 

.1 

1 

:i 


li 


ft*- 

Ik 

■i-Z„ 


I    |»^^ipnB.^»^m^mw■Ha■^■^..^.;^# 


n 


u 


SOME    AMERICAN    SPORTING    DOGS. 


Bv    WILLIAM    M.    TILKSTON 


TO  WRITP:  of  sportinj,^  do*,rs,  or.  in  other  parlance,  of  do^^s 
used  for  field-work,  widiout  mentioning  the  fox-hound,  would 
be  like  representing  the  play  of  "  Hamlet"  with  the  melan- 
choly Dane  himself  omitted.  Vet  1  am  fain  to  confess  that  this 
noble  dog  is  the  one  with  which  1  am  least  familiar.  Certainly,  I 
have  heard  his  deep-toned  voice  while  following  the  trail  of  a  ileer 
in  northern  woods,  but  he  was  only  a  degenerate  scion  of  a  noble 
race.  I  have  followed  another,  still  more  degenerate,  when  the 
light  snow  showed  the  tracks  of  iH)or  bunny  where  she  wandered 
through  the  swamp  in  search  of  Inid  or  berry  for  her  morning  meal. 
But  the  true  fox-hound,  without  a  cross,  and  bred  with  care,  is  a 
mm  cam's,  at  least  in  the  northern  .States.  And  yet  the  fox-hound 
—  certainly  if  we  judge  by  the  proclivities  of  the  original  settlers  of 
different  regions  —  was  probably  the  first  dog  introduced  into  this 
country.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  Pilgrim  b'athers  were  given  to 
the  sports  of  the  field  ;  and  yet  what  glorious  shooting  there  must 
have  been  in  the  old  commonwealth  when  the  Mayflower  first 
dropped  her  anchor.  How  the  rufted  grouse  must  have  bred  in  the 
deep  pine-woods!  How  the  snipe  must  have  swarmed  in  the 
meadows  !  and  the  woodcock  in  tin?  swamps  !  .And  the  deer,  undis- 
turbed by  the  sound  of  fire-arms  or  the  bay  of  hound,  how  they  must 
have  increased  and  multiplied  ! 

But  whatever  the  Roundheads  did,  the  Cavaliers  who  went  to 
Virginia  certainly  carried  their  amusements  with  them,  though  tradi- 
tion says  not  whether  John  .Smith  had  dogs  with  him,  or  if  the  gentle 
Sir   Walter   discovered  the  nicotian  weed    through  the  medium  of 


i 


^a- 


Ij  t 


I 


itj 


: 


i 


I'  1 


':  15 


I  I- 


m 


i,i.  ( 


■  .  i 


'!'5 


:  !    1 


i ! 


616 


Some  .tmcncan  S/foHin^f  Dogs. 


1)1  i:i<  iioi'M). 


a  sharp-nosed  liouiul.  Still,  the  Ibx-houiKl  was  inlmduccd  into 
Virginia  at  a  very  «'arly  day,  and  in  thai  Stale  and  iti-rhaps  in  one 
or  two  others,  h«'  is  to  he  found,  and  is  still  hrcd  in  coniparativc 
purity, —  not  that  I  woidd  infrr  that  purc-hrcd  hounds  arc  nut  to  Ik* 
s«<  n  rlscwhcri!.  Individuals  arc  occasionally  to  l)c  met  wilii,  and  in 
the  pack  of  Mr.  Joe  I  )onaluii',  who  hunts  near  liackcnsatk,  arc  to  ho 
found  sonu;  lini-  specimens.  Nor  is  it  ol  ain  use  lor  the  most  ardent 
lo.x  hunter  of  lo-day  to  import  ilo^s  from  i.n^land.  It  was  not  until 
the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century  that  foN  huntinj^^  and  the 
hreedinjr  of  fo.x-hounds  were  |)ursiieil  systematically  in  ( Ireat  Hrilain. 
and  it  was  prohahly  in  the  middle;  of  the  succeed- 
in]Lj  century  that  the  sport  was  hrouj^rht  across 
the  water.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  fox- 
huntinj^  was  a  fasiiionahle  amusenuMit  in  X'irs^inia 
louii;  prior  to  the  devolution,  ami  it  is  not 
imi)rol)al)le  that  the  okl  style  of  Spanish  pointer, 
then  fashionable  in  ICn|j^land,  shortly  followed  the 
fox-hound.  To  fox-huntinj;,  however,  we  must  j^ivi-  the  rtrst  placi'  as  a 
sport  followed  with  the  aid  of  a  doj^,  and  in  spite  of  vicissitudes  and 
tribulations  of  every  kind,  the  southern  gentleman  still  follows  his  pack, 
and  enjoys  the  chase  with  the  same;  zi'st  as  his  forefathers.  The 
,,  -  -^  fox-hound  of  to-ilay  in  /Nmerica,  howeviM-,  is  a  very 
/^  j'^  different  animal  from  the  houml  now  fashionable  in 
,  T  I'Jijrland,  and  the  choicest  draft  from  the  Oiiorn  or 

/    /^""^        t'^^    I'ytchley    would    be    found    almost   useless  in   a 
^•"''^  *\    country  so  thickly  timbered  and  with  such  hi^h  rail- 

(;ki  viioi  Ml.  fences  as  ours.  In  the  earlitM-  ilays  of  the  colonies, 
the  hounds  then  imported  were  much  better  suited  to  the  needs  of 
the  sportsmen.  A  .slow  do_<j,  such  as  was  fashionable  in  the  days  of 
S(|uire  Western,  before  huntinij  came  to  more  clo.sely  resemble 
steeple-chasinti"  (as  it  does  now),  was  the  dog  which  found  favc.r 
with  our  X'irginia  gentlemen,  and  whose  characteristics  have  been 
since  adhered  to.  Not  but  that  speed  is  desirable  in  a  hountl,  but 
in  our  country  it  would  be  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  follow  him  ; 
and  the  introduction  into  the  pack  of  one  dog  such  as  is  now 
used  in  England  wouKl  most  probably  result  in  spoiling  the  sport. 

Whatever  may  have  been  the  quality  of  the  first  hounds  imported, 
some  of  the  bluest  blood  of  the   English  kennels  was  subseciuently 


t 


\M 


% 


n 


SotHC  ^biivnian  sporting  Dogs. 


617 


Till-;    MKKT    AT    TIIK    "IIAKI-    ANU    l;A(;i,l.,"   NKAK    I'llll.ADM.IMII A.    1823, 

crossc'd  with  it.  In  1825,  Rohcrl  Oliver,  the  mciciiant  ))rinc(;  of 
Haltiinorc,  imported  some  celelirated  bhick,  wliite  and  tan  lioiinds  from 
Injiand,  whose;  descendants  are  still  hij^dily  prizeil.  Siil)S(;(juently, 
C()inmo<h)re  Stockton  was  presented  hy  Sir  I  larry  (iocxhicke,  master 
of  the  (hiorn,  with  several  couples  fniii  that  pack,  some  of  whom 
were  j^dven  to  the  late  Mr.  John  S.  .Skinner,  of  Haltimore  who  sent 
them  to  \Vad(;  }lami)ton,  I'^scp, —  father  of  the  ^rentleman  at  present 
lK;arinj^  that  name;, —  who  used  th(;m  for  huntinj^^  deer  in  the  neij^h- 
horJiood  of  the  White  .Sulphur  .Springs,  \'a.  .\fterward  they  went 
to  his  estate  in  South  Carolina,  where  tlu-ir  blood  has  l)(;en  mixed 
with  that  of  the  oKKt  strains  until  jirohably  none  of  it  remains  in  its 
])urity.  I'"o.\-huntinJ,,^  howevt-r,  was  not  entirely  confuK'd  to  the 
Southern  .States,  as  will  be  seen  b\-  the  followint,'-  notice,  which 
appt'ared  in  the  "  I'niled  .States  (lazette,"  publish(;d  in  i'hiladelphia, 
on  Octolx.T  29,   182,3  ■ 

TO  (IKNll.KMKN  Sl'Ok  TSMIN.— A  FFNT,  RKD  FOX  (I.A'IKI.V 
caught)  to  lie  >tartLil  from  the  lioiisc  of  Mr.  James  (irccnhnm,  si^n  of  the  H,ir|i  and 
I'lagle,  near  the  rpper  I'erry,  Si  hiiylkill  Bridge,  on  I''rida\.  the  -^ist  inst.,  at  half-past 
one(>'(lo(k,  I'.  .\I.  (ientlemeii  s]iortsmen  desirous  of  atlelldilig  said  ciiase  will  he 
thankfully  received,  and  ire  |iarticularl\-  reipiested  to  hring  their  dogs,  as  this  is  for  no 
benefit,  anv  more  tiian  hoping  said  sportsmen  will  put  their  mites  toward  jtaying  the 
cost  of  this  advertisement. 


f 


I 


'1 


!    I 


i^iifU 


.,  I 


* 

6i8 


Some  American  Sporting  Dogs. 


i-: 


U 


The  fox  appears  to  have  been  only  a  "bagman,"  and  the  hounds 
a  scrub  pack  selected  for  the  occasion.  I  have  been  writing  now 
only  of  the  hound  as  he  is  used  in  fox-hunting;  in  almost  every  sec- 
tion of  the  country  where  deer  are  found  the  fox-hound  is  used  for 
hunting  them.  Here  speed  is  most  desirable,  as  the  hunter  does 
not  expect  to  follow  his  dogs,  but  takes  his  station  by  some  run-way 
or  pond  where  the  deer  is  almost  sure  to  pass.  Great  strength  is 
also  a  capital  quality,  as  a  buck  at  bay  is  no  mean  antagonist,  and  a 
first-class  deer-hound  should  not  only  possess  the  intelligence  but 
the  ability  to  catch  a  deer  by  the  hind  leg  and  throw  him. 


KABniT-IllNriNG    WITH    BKAGLES. 


Fox-hounds,  generally  mongrels,  are  also  used  for  hunting  rab- 
bits (hares)  in  this  country ;  but  a  much  more  valuable  dog  for  this 
purpose,  and  one  which  is  fast  coming  in  demand,  is  the  little  beagle, 
a  miniature  fox-hound,  being  from  ten  to  twelve  inches  only  in 
height  at  the  shoulder.  Merry  workers  they  are,  and  to  see  a  pack 
of  them  working  on  the  scent  of  a  hare  (for  we  have  no  true  rabbits, 
wild,  in  this  country)  is  worth  going  miles  to  sec.  I  am  astonished 
that  some  gentlemen  do  not  get  together  a  pack  of  beagles.  They 
can  be  followed  on  foot,  and  there  are  numbers  of  placets  within  an 
hour  or  two's  ride  of  New  York  where  hares  can  be  fountl  in  ample 
quantities  for  sport.  Somewhat  similar  to  the  beagle,  in  size  at 
least,  although  they  differ  in  having  crooked  fore-legs,  is  the  dachs- 
hund, a  dog  of  German  extraction.  (John  Ph(enix  .said  of  some  one 
bred  in  a  like  manner,  that  his  father  was  a  1  )utchman  and  his 
mother  .i  tluchess,)  Dr.  Twaddell,  of  Philadelphia,  has  some  of 
pure  breed,  tile  finest  in  this  country. 

As  a  rule,  however,  nowadays,  when  one  speaks  of  a  sporting 
dog,  he  is  generally  supposed  to  refer  to  a  dog  used  in  connection 


Some  Amencau  Spotting  Dogs. 


619 


I'OINTKRS    1.1-    I-IITV    YKAKS    ACd.        IROM    AN    ril.I)    I'RINT. 

with  a  gun ;  and  it  is  more  particularly  with  those  varieties  that  I 
feel  at  home,  and  regarding  which  I  propose  to  write  ;  premising 
that  I  am  addressing  the  general  reader  as  well  as  those  young 
sportsmen  who  for  lack  of  time  and  opportunity  have  yet  to  learn 
their  A,  H,  C's  in  dog  matters.  The  interest  in  dogs,  particularly 
those  used  in  shooting,  has  of  late  so  increased  that  scores  of  would- 
be  critics  and  authorities  have  sprung  up.  Without  pretending  to 
the  erudition  of  those  professors  in  canine  lore,  my  object  is  to 
impart  to  the  class  first  mentioned  such  information,  the  result  of 
my  own  e.xperience,  as  will  aid  them,  not  only  in  deciding  what 
description  of  dog  may  best  suit  their  purposes,  but  also  in  keeping 
their  dogs  in  health  and  right  condition.  To  further  assist  my 
endeavors,  I  have  selected  for  illustration  such  dogs  as  are  types  of 
their  various  classes,  and  who  have  attained  celebrit)-  on  the  show- 
bench  and  in  the  field.  Those  who  are  not  in  the  habit  of  reading 
the  sporting  literature  of  the  day  —  and  I  mean  by  this  the  literature 
provided  for  the  sportsman,  not  the  sporting  man  —  would  be  sur- 
prised were  they  made  aware  of  the  amount  of  paper  spoiled  and 
ink  spilled  in  the  wordy  warfare  which  has  been  c.r 'ied  on  for  two 
or  three  years  past,  relative  to  the  merits  and  demerits  of  various 
strains.  Nor  is  the  discussion  confined  to  strains  alone  I  find 
myself  at  the  outset  called  upon  to  decide,  or  at  least  so  to  describe 


M 


I  fiiii 


'ri 

W 

■'    i 


1  i;o  I  ij 


f.  ,1 


620 


Some  Ameyican  Sporting  Dogs. 


that  the  reader  can  decide  for  himself,  upon  the  relati\'e  merits  of  the 
two  principal  varieties  of  the  dogs  over  which  we  shoot  our  game : 
namely,  the  setters  and  the  pointers. 

If  our  country  were  more  circumscribed  in  its  limits;  were  our 
shooting  confined,  say,  to  the  States  of  New  York,  New  Jersey,  and 
Pennsylvania,  the  question  would  be  one  easily  solved ;  for,  if  we 
except  snipe-shooting  on  the  meadows,  most  of  our  gunning  is  done 
in  coverts;  '  'ed,  perhaps^  with  low  growing  underbrush  or  thick  and 
tangled  vines  and  briers.  It  is  true  that  quails  feed  in  the  stubble, 
and  the  bevies  are  usually  first  flushed  in  the  open,  but  they  immedi- 
ately seek  the  recesses  of  swamp  or  wood,  where  they  must  be 
followed  and  routed  singly  if  the  bag  is  to  be  filled.  The  woodcock, 
the  king  of  our  game  birds,  haunts,  in  summer  particularly,  only  the 
densest  cover,  where,  by  some  little  stream  or  marshy  thicket,  he  finds 
in  the  yielding  ooze  and  soft  earth  the  worms  and  larvce  which  form 
his  diet.  It  therefore  stands  to  reason  that  the  dog  for  our  purpose 
would  be  one  like  the  setter,  whose  tl.;.:!v  coat  of  hair  would  enable 
him  to  withstand  the  attacks  of  briers  and  brush,  and  all  the  effects 
of  wet  and  cold ;  whose  feet,  provided  by  nature  with  tufts  of  hair 
between  the  toes,  carrj'  him  without  injury  over  the  sharp  flints  of 
the  mountain-side,  where  the  ruffed  grouse  (partridge)  loves  to  bask 
among  the  old  logs  and  dead  trees. 

But  our  country  is  not  all  briery  thicket  or  rough  mountain-side. 
At  the  West  there  is  the  "boundless  prairie,"  the  home  of  the  pin- 
nated grouse,  or  "chicken";  where  "cat"  or  "bull"  briers  are  not 
found,  and  where  wading  is  comparatively  unknown.  Here  the 
sleek-coated  pointer  is  in  his  element;  for  "chicken  "-shooting  in 
most  States  begins  in  August,  and  the  heavy-coated  setter  sufiers 
from  the  heat  and  want  of  water,  while  the  pointer  with  his  close 
hair  hunts  on,  asking  only  for  an  occasional  lap  of  water,  until  the 
day's  work  is  done.  In  many  places  also  the  Canada  thistle  abounds, 
the  burrs  of  which  become  so  entangled  in  the  coat  of  the  setter  as 
to  cause  him  perfect  misery.  I  have  cjuite  recently  known  of  several 
instances  of  dogs  positively  refusing  to  work  until  the  burrs  were 
removed.  In  all  such  places  the  pointer  is  undoubtedly  the  best  dog 
to  shoot  over.  Hut  all  sportsmen  do  not  go  to  the  prairies  in 
August,  nor  is  the  pinnated  grouse  the  only  game  bird  to  be  found 
there.     In  the  latter  part  of  September  the  ducks  and  snipe  begin  to 


Some  Ameyican  Sporting  Dogs. 


621 


FOX-HUNTING    IN    THE    SOUTH. 


arrive  on  their  annual  southern  niiLjration  ;  and  then  we  Iiave  not 
only  the  cold  weather  which  makes  the  setter  comfortable  in  his 
thicker  jacket,  but  we  must  y^o  into  the  w^et  lands  to  find  snipe,  and 
the  ponds  or  lakes  for  ducks.  Mere  the  setter  undeniably  has  the 
advantai^e  ;  for  althouj^h  the  pointer  will  (^o  into  the  water  if  ordered, 
or,  if  highly  bred,  into  the  most  tan,<rled  thicket,  his  shivering"  and 
shaking  discomfort  in  the  one  instance,  and  his  lacerated  and  bleeding 
skin  in  the  other,  make  him  an  object  of  compassion  to  a  considerate 
master,  and  militate  against  the  pleasures  of  the  hunt.  Hut  the 
question  is  by  no  means,  as  yet,  decided  against  the  pointer.  There 
is  another  thing  in  his  favor  which  is  w(dl  worth)-  of  consideration 
before  we  arrive  at  a  conclusion,  and  that  is  the  comparative  ease 
with  which  he  is  broken,  and  his  e.xcellent  (|ualit\-  of  retaining  his 
education  when  once  it  has  been  fully  perfected,  indeed,  so  much 
am  I  impressed  with  the  value  of  that  cjuality,  that  I  shoukl  almost 
be  tempted,  in  spite  of  a  atroni^ />i/n//(t///  for  the  setter,  to  suggest  to 


■  i     i 

i 

■I 

■     I 


!.  i:: 


I 


f 


rll 


HI' 


.:il'i: 


m 


/  ■ 


622 


Some  AmeyicciH  Sporting  Dogs. 


I  i^ 


I  * 


V  .  1 


a  friend  who  would  shoot  but  occasionally,  and  desired  to  break  his 
own  dogs,  to  choose  a  pointer  in  preference.  But  to  those  who  are 
skillful  in  handling  dogs,  and  who  are'  so  situated  as  to  be  able  to 
keep  their  dogs  in  work  during  the  shooting  season,  there  can  scarcely 
be  a  doubt  that  the  setter  is  the  better  dog.   Certainly  he  is  the  choice 


RED    IRISH    SETTER    "DICK."      (OWNKB    HV    WM.   JAKVIS,   CI.AREMONT,    N.    H) 

of  the  larger  number  of  sportsmen,  although  it  must  be  admitted  that 
fashion  prevails  here  as  everywhere,  and  the  setter  is  the  fashionable 
dog  of  the  day.  Of  course,  in  both  setters  and  pointers  there  are 
exceptions  to  the  general  rules  I  have  given,  and  individuals  of  either 
variety  are  to  be  found  possessing  the  best  qualities  attributed  to 
both. 

Leaving  the  question  of  superiority,  let  us  look  at  the  different 
breeds  and  strains  of  both  setters  and  pointers  to  which  the  choice 
must  be  narrowed  down.  There  are  now  in  this  country  two  public 
tests  for  sporting  dogs  at  which  their  qualities  may  be  decided, — 
bench-shows  and  field  trials.  At  bench-shows  dogs  are  exhibited  in 
raised  pens  or  boxes,  and  being  taken  before  a  duly  appointed  and 
presumably  competent  person,  are  judged  by  a  certain  standard  for 
each  variety,  which  I  shall  presently  mention.  This  test,  of  course, 
is  similar  to  one  which  a  race-horse  would  pass  in  his  box,  and 
although  it  might  be  an  indication,  through  form,  of  speed,  endur- 
ance, and  intelligence,  it  would  be  no  index  of  the  possession  of 
those  two  great  requisites,  "nose,"  or  scenting  power,  and  "stanch- 
ness,"  without  the  former  of  which  the  most  highly  bred  dog  would 
be  as  valueless  as  the  most  worthless  cur.     At  field  trials  dogs  are 


Some  American  Sporting  Dogs. 


623 


1IL« 


11.' 


BLACK     AND     WIIITK     SETTER      "  nUY      MANNERING.  WINNER      OF      THE      SCllTT      SPECIAL      I'RIZE 

lOR      BEST    "NATIVE     ENGLISH  "     SETTER     AT     THE     CENTENNIAL     BENCH-SHOW.       (OWNLI)     HY 
ULDLEY    OI.CDTT,   OK    ALBANY,    N.  Y.) 

pitted  against  each  other  on  their  game,  and  judgment  given 
through  a  certain  scale  nf  merits  and  demerits :  they  are  awarded 
points  for  pointing  their  birds,  for  stanchness,  pace,  style,  backing, 
and  retrieving ;  or,  deprived  of  them,  for  flushing  birds,  for  backing, 
or  for  refusing  to  drop  to  shot  or  wing.  It  is  obvious,  however, 
that  in  the  limited  time  allowed  for  a  "  trial,"  that  the  best  dog 
might  not  always  have  the  same  opportunities  to  show  his  qualities 
as  one  his  inferior.  Still,  when  the  rules  shall  have  been  perfected, 
the  field  trial  will  be  a  satisfactory  test  of  the  qualities  of  a  dog  for 
the  purposes  required. 

Setters  are  divided  into  three  classes,  the  English,  Irish,  and 
Gordon ;  these  being  usually  divided  again,  at  bench-shows,  into 
native  and  imported  classes.  It  is  principally  over  the  English 
setters — and  the  term  is  supposed  to  include  those  of  every  color 
but  red,  which  would  indicate  Irish  blood,  and  black-and-tan,  which 
is  the  color  of  the  Gordons — that  the  fight  has  been  carried  on,  one 
side  claiming  that  the  native  dog  —  that  is,  one  whose  pedigree 
could  not  be  traced  directly  to  some  imported  celebrity  —  was  a 
mongrel,  and  the  other  maintaining  with  equal  persistency  that  the 
"blue  blood,"  or  imported  dogs,  were  utterly  unfit  for  our  work, 
and  that  the  careful  but  in  many  instances  "  in  and  in"  breeding  had 
resulted  in  deterioration.  Of  course  both  sides  were,  to  a  certain 
extent,  right;  but,  as  is  usual  in  violent  partisanship,  overeagerness 
had  carried  the  matter  beyond  solid  argument,  and  the  outsider  was 
left  as  much  as  ever  in  the  dark.     It  must  be  admitted  that,  until 


.  \\\ 


^    t 


^Ji 


624 


Some  American  Sporting  Dogs. 


11''     . 


the  inauguration  of  bench-shows,  breeding  in  this  country,  as  a  rule, 
was  conducted  in  a  most  careless  and  slipshod  manner,  yet  I  believe 
we  had  strains  of  dogs,  as  well  as  individuals,  which,  evea  allowing 
each  the  benefit  of  its  own  ground  and  training,  were  fully  equal, 
certainly   as   field   performers,   to  any  across   the  water.     That  we 


f. 


i  «« 


(;(jRnoN    SKTTKR    "  I.OL  . 


would  have  continued  to  possess  them  I  very  much  doubt.  Careless 
breeding,  with  no  regard  to  the  selection  of  the  fittest,  and  no  atten- 
tion to  pedigrees,  comliined  with  the  fact  that  there  are  ten  men  to- 
day who  shoot  over  dogs  to  where  there  was  one  twenty-five  years 
ago,  would  soon  have  worn  out  the  stock,  had  it  not  been  renewed 
and  regenerated  with  imported  blood.  There  is  no  comparison  be- 
tween the  amount  of  work  demanded  of  our  dogs  and  that  required 
in  England.  Here,  the  average  sportsman  owns  but  one  dog,  and 
that  one  is  e.xpected  to  work  from  morning  until  night,  day  in  and 
day  out ;  while  across  the  water  no  one  thinks  of  going  to  the  moors 
without  at  least  half  a  dozen  dogs,  which  are  worked  alternately  in 
braces,  Nor  are  their  dogs  taught  or  allowed  to  retrieve.  A  curly- 
coated  retriever  follows  at  the  keeper's  heels  and  brings  in  the  dead, 
—  British  sportsmen  having  a  theory  that  fetching  dead  birds  injures 
the  dog's  scenting  powers.  The  crossing  of  these  "blue  bloods" 
with  the  best  of  our  natives  is  the  true  theory  of  breeding  by  which 
we  will  perpetuate  the  best  qualities  of  lioth.  Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, if  a  dog  comes  with  a  long  pedigree  from  a  widely  advertised 
English  kennel  he  is  bred  too  indiscriminately  without  regard  to  his 


Some  Ameman  Sporting  Dogs. 


625 


RKTRIKVING. 


qualifications  for  begetting  good  offspring,  and  much  disappointment 
is  the  result.  "Imported"  is  the  magic  word  which  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  imperfections.  Fortunatel)-,  very  many  dogs  of  well-known 
excellence  have  come  to  this  country,  and  now  that  the  matter  has 
been  fully  discussed  and  a  proper  impetus  given,  our  breeds  are 
rapidly  improving,  and  I  believe  it  is  an  admitted  fact  that  we  have 
field  dogs  whose  superiors  are  not  to  be  found.  As  a  specimen  of 
the  high-bred  dog  from  imported  stock,  1  have  chosen  "  Guy  Man- 
nering,"  bred  by  Charles  H.  Raymond,  I-Lsq.,  of  Morris  Plains,  N.  J. 
This  dog  is  the  produce  of  "  Pride  of  the  Border"  and  "  Pairy," — a 
pair  of  celebrated  Laveracks.  imported  by  Mr.  Raymond  from  the 
kennels  of  the  gentleman  whose  name  is  given  to  the  strain,  and  who 
has  bred  them  in  purity  for  more  than  fifty  years. 

The  setters  known  as  the  native  PInglish  (a  misnomer,  as  native 

American  would  be  more  pro|)er)  are  generally,  in  color,  orange  and 

white,  lemon  and  white,  black  and  white,  red  and  white,  liver-colored 

and  white,  or  all  black ;  although  they  are  to  be  found  of  a  liver  and 

40 


i 


!|  ;B'| 


■'i 


'     1- 


rii 


!i:     h 


^if 


m 


I.!    ; 


im 


f;    ' 


'  I 


626 


Some  American  Spoyting  Dogs. 


tan  or,  in  fact,  of  almost  any  known  combinations  of  the  colors  men- 
tiont-'d  (ixcc'pt  those  of  oranj^e  and  lemon  and  black.  The  points  by 
which  they  are  jiid),fed  in  this  country  —  perfection  in  these  points 
is  supposed  to  make  the  acme  of  a  dojr — are  as  follows: 

"  Head  I'Min,  and  somewhat  narrow,  witli  a  fair  distance  from  the  eye  t(J  tlic  end  of 
the  nose,  whi<  h  should  not  he  snijiy  or  ant-eater  hke;  skull  a  little  prominent ;  ears  set 
on  low  and  tlat,  not  thrown  haek  ;  the  least  stop  just  above  or  across  the  eyes;  jaws 
level,  widi  a  little  fullness  of  lip  just  at  the  hack  of  the  mouth;  eye  large  hut  not  pro- 
truding, with  a  ([uick  appearance  ;  nei  k  thin  and  deep  at  setting-in  on  ciiest,  moder- 
ately long  and  slightly  an  hed,  with  no  appearance  of  throatiness ;  shouldur-Mades  long 
anfl  well  rending  at  the  points,  with  a  flatness  of  shoulder-sides  not  noti(  ed  in  any 
other  dog  ;  narrow  at  shoulder-jioint,  Inil  great  niusi  ular  devel()|inient  in  the  shoulder- 
blades  and  forearms;  chest  very  deej),  not  over  narrow  between  the  fore-legs.  Fore- 
legs strong  and  muscular  in  the  fore-arm  ;  leg  straight,  with  a  slight,  elastic-tike 
ajjpearaiu  e ;  foot  moderately  round,  but  oftener  tlat;  back  wide,  deejily  ribbed,  lf)wer- 
ing  slightly  from  the  shoulder  to  the  hip;  loins  wide  and  very  inustular;  stitles  full  and 
well  develo|)ed  ;  hoik  well  bent;  stern  |tail|  (  arried  almost  level  with  the  bai  k,  a 
moderate  length,  well  flagge<l  from  the  root,  wearing  off  to  nothing  at  ti|i  of  stern; 
coal  wavy  or  straight,  fme  and  silky,  free  from  <  url,  espe(  ially  on  hin<l-(|uarters." 

'Ihe  Irish  sett(;r  is  a  do^  now  fast  comin}^  into  fashion  with  us. 
lie  is  wiry  and  endurin^s  but  headslronir,  re(|iiirinj^  a  dt.al  of  work 
to  keep  him  in  command.  When  well  bred  they  are  remarkably 
handsome  do^^s,  ;is  will  be;  seen  from  the  portrait  of  Mr.  Jarvis's 
"Dick."      Mis  bench-show  jjoints  are  as  follows: 

"Head  narrow,  widening  a  little  in  the  forehead,  skull  slightly  arched  ;  ears  .1  fair 
length,  slightly  folded,  hanging  straight,  set  well  b.ick  in  the  head,  and  moderately 
feathered;  eye  ha/el  or  brownish,  with  a  sensible  and  loving  look,  not  |irominent ;  nose 
(lark  flesh-color,  or  black;  (  best  but  moderately  wide,  with  great  depth;  back  straight, 
but  slightly  receding  to  the  hip,  with  gijod  loins  and  well-bent  stifles;  stern  carried 
slightly  up,  not  much  flagged,  but  slightly;  coat  indined  to  be  harsh,  not  soft  and 
silky,  smooth  or  wavy,  ,ind  thick,  but  not  too  Icjng;  (  olor  a  deep  mahogany-red,  but 
not  any  black;  white,  however,  is  allowable  in  some  Irish  breeds  on  (best  and  legs 
and  neck." 

The  (Gordon  s(,-tter.  in  spite  of  a  well-known  Mn^lish  authority, 
from  whom  indeed  we  have  received  our  points  for  judj^in^,  docs 
pos.sess  the  "  jro- ahead  (jualities  now  refpiired."  How  any  one  who 
has  shot  over  well-bred  (iordons  can  make  such  an  ass(;rtion,  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  imaj^dne.  Those  that  1  have  seen  in  the  field  have  been 
d(jjrs  of  remarkable;  endurance,  and  the  rich  beauty  of  their  silky  black- 
and-tan  coats,   and  their  affectionate  dispositions,   are  unsurpassed 


t-l! 


Sonic  American  Sporting  Dogs. 


627 


by  any  oIIkt  hrcfd.  "  Idston*;"  says  he  has  sv.vn  better  setters  of 
the  blac;k-anil-tan  than  of  any  other  breed.  'I  lieir  h(;ads  are  a  little 
heavier  tiian  the   Mnj^lish  setters,  they  have  more  flew,  arc  deeper  in 


lll'.AI>   f)l     prUNIKR    ".SKSSATION,"      (OWSP.l)    llV    WI.ST  MINST  F.R    KKSSF-.r.     fllll,    NKWYOIU:    friY.) 

ehest  and  body,  with  niort;  bone;  otherwise  their  points  vary  but 
little.  .Much,  howev(.-r,  depends  upon  their  coats,  which  must  ber  a 
glossy  black  with  a  slight  wave  allowed,  but  no  suspicion  of  a  curl, 
and  th(;  tan  with  which  th<ty  are  marked  should  be  of  the  rich(;st  red. 
liefore  leaving  th(;  setters,  a  word  as  to  their  origin  may  not  be 
out  of  place.  Mf^st  authorities  claim  that  the  setter  was  knc)wn  in 
I'Jigland  long  Ixtfore  the  pointer  was  introduced,  he  being  a  direct 
desce-ndant  of  the  spaniel.  In  fact,  they  are  spok<,-n  f)f  as  "setting 
spaniels,"  being  used,  before  the  introduction  of  fowling  pi(;ces,  tf)  aid 
in  securing  game;  by  first  fmding  the  birds  and  then  "setting"  f)r 
pointing  in  that  position  while  the  net  was  passed  over  d(jg  and  birds 
together.  in  time,  after  the  introduction  of  the  pointer,  tti*  y  came 
to  point  their  gam<:  in  the  same  manner,  although  even  now  we 
occasionally  find  a  setter  that  drops  or  crouches  tf>  the  groimd 
immediately  upon  scenting  his  birds. 

.Although  the  colors  of  pointers  at  the  present  day  are  (|uite  as 
varied  as  tliose  of  setters,  there  is  but  little  doubt  thai  the  (olor  of 
the  old  Spanish  pointers,  from  wliom  they  are  all  descended,  was  a 
liver  and  white.  Ccjlor  is  fpiite  a  matter  of  fancy,  but  I  confess  to  a 
preference  for  orangt;  and  white  in  the  sett(;r,  and  lemon   and  white 


I 


, 


1 

m 

•  1^ 

1 

1 

1 

1 

)j' 


■'I'l 


^1 

I!  ■ 


\i  I 


628 


Soj/ic  /hiKTuaii  S/ioNin^  Doirs. 


in  the  |)oinl<T.  Mill  wli;il<'vt:r  llu:  color,  lln'  ^'ooil  points  ol  tins  <lo^ 
arc  to  Im;  sccmi  almost  at  a  j^lancc,  from  his  hniid  and  llif  shortness 
of  his  coat.  I  he  fasiiionaMe  pointer  of  th<'  present  day  is  a  very 
(iiffcTciit  animal  from  his  heavy,  hnnlxrin^  ancestor.  .Many  years 
a^o,  a  cross  of  fo.\  honntl  was  inlroduc<'d,  and  lo  that  we  are  indel)le(| 


ril.Al  K-ANIi-U  lin  Y.    I'll!  SI  IK 


'  WIIISKV."        (llWNII)     riV    WI-.SI  MIN'.II-.K     KINM.I,    11,111, 
M   W   VnllK     (  II  V.) 


for  tlu;  lij^hler-framed,  more  elegant  animal  w<!  now  |»oss<ss,  and 
probahly  also  for  the  variations  in  cr)|or  from  tlie  old  orthodr)x  liver, 
or  liv<;r  ami  white.  "Idstone"  says  that  the  pointer  siioiili!  he 
modeled  lo  a  j^real  extent  after  the  foxhound,  hut  that  his  head 
should  l)(;  fmer,  his  nose  s(|Mare,  thi!  iipp(;r  lip  slij^ditly  in  excess 
of  tin;  low(;r,  the  corners  of  tin;  month  well  flevved.  The  forehead 
should  he  rais(;d  hut  not  round  ;  it  should  Ix;  depressed  in  the  center, 
almost  forming  a  ridijc  (/.  c,  lh<;  furrow  down  the  middle  of  the 
he.id  s(!parat<;s  it  into  two  slij^htly  rounded  halves),  'ihert;  should  lu; 
a  well-pronoimced  "stop"  l)<;twe<;n  the  eyes;  the  ears  should  he 
thin,  flexible  ;ind  silky,  of  mo(lerat<;  si/e,  set  rather  far  hack,  hut 
lyin|L(  close;  to  the  head  'IIk;  nasal  hone  should  h<:  depntssed  in  the 
c(Mit(;r,  and  should  turn  upward  slightly.  'I  he  h(;ad  of  "  S«;nsation," 
in  lh(!  cut  on  tin;  pn^cediniL;  |>ii,l4<',  conforms  mon;  closely  to  these 
conditions  than  that  of  any  other  dot^r  |  have  se(;n.  'I  he  other 
proportions  hy  which  the  pointer  is  judLjed  in  this  country  are  as 
follows  : 

■'  Uoily  r.illicr  im  lined  to  hi'  long,  liiit  not  mm  li  so,  tliii  kciiiiin  from  llu;  Ih-.kI  to  the 
•scl-in  of  the  shoulders   no  looseness  oflhe  thro;it-skiii,  shouMers  UMrnnv  ;it  the  meeting 


JlHUIijtJmaxtw- 


So/Hc  .hncn'diH  Spoftiiiii  l^'K^'^- 


629 


I  rvi.i(-AM(  win  1 1.    rni'.ii.K  "  kan'.p.k   '     (ijwsr.n   nv     .    1:    ihi.i  v,  i,\ki    miv,   mi-.s.) 

(it  llir  lil,i(|<'  Imiiics,  will.  ;i  ^;ic;il  .iiii'iiilit  u\  iipllsi  Ic,  lori;^  in  llic  l/l.nlc",,  si-l  slanting, 
willi  :irin  of  (lie  li-^;  ,strori(^  iinil  (oniiii^  ;iw;iy  sli.iinlil,  and  1  ilmu  m  illur  diiI  nor  in  ; 
the  lc;^s  not  ^fMl,  heavy  Imni'd,  \m\  wiili  a  ^ri;il  aMioiinl  ol  nnisi  li- ;  Ic)/,  |iicss((|  slr;nt/;lil 
to  the  fool,  will  loumlrd  and  s)  ninnirii  al,  with  loot  will  rouinlid,  dial  is,  tiir  lore  Icj^s 
and  lei  I  ;  (  he, I  iiioderalely  ileep,  nol  oM-i  uidr,  I  Mil  Ml  III'  leiill)  u  ide  anil  di  e|i  lo  t;,i\e 
pleiily  ol  l)^ealhin^^  room;  hafk  level,  wide  in  loins;  dee|ily  riMn-d,  and  with  riiis  tar- 
ried well  li.ii  k  ;  lii|)-.  wide  and  lull  ol  niiisi  |e,  nol  strai;.dil  in  the  Iioi  k,  hut  inoderalely 
hiMit ;  stifles  lull  and  well  develo|iei|  ;  the  slein  iieail)  slraij/hl,  ^loin^;  off  tapering  to 
the  point,  sel  in  level  willi  tin'  hai  k,  1  arried  slrai^hl,  nol  ahove  ihe  level  ol  hai  k  ;  syin 
iiielry  and  j^eiiera!  appiarame  rai  \  ;  and  niui  h  heauly  ol  lorni  ajfjjcars  lo  iIk;  eye  ol  a 
real   poinliT  hreiwler  and   lani  ier." 

.\l  our  liciicl)  shows,  poiiUcis  air  diviilcl  into  two  (lasses,  those 
w(;i;^fhiii^  iiiidcr,  and  those  over,  fifty  pounds.  It  is  dillii  iilt  to  name 
llie  period  when  poiniers  were  first  hrotij^ht  to  lliis  ronntry.  I  ha\<; 
trarcd  som<;  as  far  hark  as  i.Skj,  wh(Mi  a  ^fenth.-inaii  from  Shel|ie|<|, 
I'.n^dand,  l)roiiL(lil  a  hrac  e  to  liiicks  County,  I'cnnsylvania,  where  tlic 
"  liird-do^fs"  were  ohjects  ol  jrreat  curiosit).  I  know  of  no  one  at 
the  present  day  who  has  hri'd  them  more  (  arefiill\'  or  for  a  Ioniser 
tiini'  tlian  Mr.  I'reileriek  S(  hiu  hard,  of  New  N'ork.  I'or  hiidi  ( oiira^e, 
kec:n  nose,  ;ii)d  most  perfect  staiichness,  I  know  of  no  jjointer  th<; 
siip(;rior  of  .\lr.  I)illy's  ••  Kan^nr," — a  do^r  who  is  work»;d  on  the 
prairies  ahnosl  every  da\  of  the  season,  and  of  whom  it  is  sai<l  l>y 
his  admirers,  "  he  never  fliisiuHl  a  Ijird." 


ill 


liili 


«    \ 


\k 


WP 

\ 

A 

1, 

630 


Some  .Inicncau  S/yoytiiig  l\)gs. 


"!\f  I 


i!''.     i 


m' 


r-i 


COCKI-.K    SI'ANIHl.s    "sNIl'"    AND    "JIMKI. 


(dWNI.I)    IIV    S.    I.  lIKSTiiU,  llAundKli,   (iiNN.| 


riicrc  is  a  do^  which  is  dcstiiictl  to  bcconu;  a  jfrcal  favorite  in 
this  country,  and  I  doubt  not  that  \vc  hav<!  a  much  hirjj^cr  sphere  for 
his  usefulness  than  they  \y.wv.  in  luij^dand.  This  is  the  httle  cocl<et 
spaniel.  \\c.  is  a  merry,  active  wori^er,  not  pointinj.^  his  birds,  but 
}j;ivin^  tonjrue  when  he  strikes  the  scent,  wiiich  he  follows  until  the 
bird  is  flushed.  In  our  thick,  almost  impenetrable  covers,  particu- 
larly where  woodcock  are  shot,  in  summer,  the  cocker  is  especially 
valuable,  as  he  can  make  his  way  untler  briers  ami  into  places  where 
a  larger  dog  could  not  penetrate.  In  such  shootini;  the  dog  is  almost 
always  out  of  sight  of  his  master,  and  a  stanch  setter  or  pointer  might 
be  lost  on  his  point;  whereas,  the  cocker,  by  giving  tongue,  apprisc-s 
the  gunner,  not  only  of  his  own  whereabouts,  but  also  of  the  |)resence 
of  game.  Could  I  countenance  such  an  unsportsmanlike  proceeding 
as  shooting  a  bird  while  sitting,  I  might  say  that  they  wouUl  be  u.se- 
ful  for  treeing  ruffed  grouse  instead  of  the  mongrels  now  used  ;  but 
their  real  value  is  in  woodcock  shooting.  'Ihe  illustrati(jn  of  Mr. 
Hestor's  fine  imported  dogs  sufficiently  describes  their  general  ap- 
pearance. There  is  another  variety  of  spaniel,  the  clumber,  which 
is  deservedly  popular  in  England,  as  possessing  all  the  advantages  in 
cover  shooting  of  the  cocker,  but  hunts  mute.  Thej-  are  rare  even 
on  the  other  side,  and  the  only  pure  specimens  I  have  seen  in  this 
country  are  those  imported  by  Mr.  Jonathan  Thorne,  Jr.,  of  Duche.ss 
County,  in  this  State.  As  spaniels  are  not  e.xpected  to  poiiv  h:  ' 
game,  they  should  be  broken  to  range  close,  never  more  th;  ty 


Sonii'  .hnvncaii  Sf>ortiii^  Dogs. 


631 


or  thirty  yards  away  from   \\\v.  j^iiii,  and  always  to  "come  to  heel" 
or  "ilown  charj^e  "  at  thi;  report. 

The  doj^'s  to  which  I  have  hitherto  referri;d  are  thost!  used  ahiiost 
exchisiveiy  for  upland  shootinj^r,  for  althouj^ii  setters,  or  even  point- 
ers,  if  laiij^iu,  will  retri('vc  from  watt  r.  )it  when  one  is  to  follow 


-  "■''„ 


IKIsll    WAlKK-SPANtKI,   "SISIIAD 


(0\VM;1>    IIY    J.    II.   \VIIITM\N,    r  IIK  A'i 


duck-shootin<^  to  any  j^reat  extent,  wlu:ther  on  we'stt;rn  lakes  or  on 
the  waters  of  Chesapeake  May  or  Currituck  Sountl,  it  is  much  better 
to  he  provided  with  a  do^  particularly  adapted  for  the  purpose.  In 
fact,  I  once  almost  ruined  several  j,food  setters  in  California  by  allow- 
intj  them  to  n-trievc?  constaiitly  from  water,  the  result  In-inj,^  that  all 
were  afflicted  with  canker  of  tli(!  ear.  .\t  the  pnsimt  writinjr.  my 
Gordon,  "  Lou,"  is  displayinj^  sym|)t()ms  of  tlu;  same  complaint — the 
result,  I  believe,  of  unlimiteil  swimmint^  and  divinj^^  last  summer  in 
the  waters  of  the  Great  South  Bay.*  The  pure  Irish  water-spaniel 
is  rarely  m(!t  with  in  this  country.  Mr.  J.  H.  Whitman,  of  Chicajfo, 
a   portrait    of  whose   ".Sinbad"  is    L(iven,   probably  has    l\\v    fmest 

•  As  ( ;mki.T  of  lliL'  car  is  a  very  lonimon  diseasi',  always  indicatcil  hy  llii;  dog 
shaking  his  licaii  and  s<rat(  hing  at  liis  cars,  I  would  nuntion  Iktu  that  it  <  an  l)e  easily 
cured  by  the  following  lotion: — (loulard's  extra(  t  and  wine  of  opium,  of  each  one-half 
ounce;  sul|)hate  of  zinc,  one-half  drain ;  water,  sr\en  ounces;  mix.  'i'he  ear  should 
first  he  cleansed  thoroughly  will;  soap  and  warm  water,  and  a  little  of  the  lotion  injected 
twi('e  a  day. 

N.  I!. —  Since  the  foregoing  was  written,  "  I.ou"  has  been  entirely  cured  by  this 
remedy. 


If' 


i!»?.i 


I1  Mr 


m 


u  i 


il 


ftp 


fit 


m 


,1-1 


::ir 


w 


I'j! 


t: 


1;     5  1MV» 


I; 

i 

)  If       '  ^ 

1  ; 

' 

lyii*..,. 

.k. 

632 


Some  Amcricim  Sporting  Dogs. 


kennel  of  them.  At  the  West,  where  much  of  the  duck  and 
goose  shootino  is  done  where  the  mud  is  deep  and  the  wild  rice  is 
heavy,  a  dojf  of  great  strength  and  determination  is  recjuired  to  bring 
in,  not  only  the  ilead,  hut  the  many  wounded  birds  which  otherwise 
would  be  lost.  The  water-spaniel  does  all  this,  and  withal  is  as 
docile,  obedient,  and  intelligent  as  a  I'Vench  poodle.  The  head 
should  be  crowned  with  a  well-defined  top-knot,  coming  down  in 
a  peak  on  the  forehead ;  the  body  should  be  covered  with  small 
crisp  curls;  the  tail  should  Ik:  rounil  and  without  feather,  and  the 
whole  ilog  a  dark  liver-color. 

TIk;  Chesa|)eake  Hay  dog,  of  which  tiiere  are  now  three  accepte-d 
types,  is  a  ilog  of  which  even  more  is  e.xpected.  1  le  must  have 
strength  to  breast  the  heaviest  seas  and  bring  in  a  goose;  he  must 
fight  his  way  through  broken  ice,  and  if  lie  meets  a  piece  too  large 
to  scramble  over  he  must  dive  under  it.  Sexeral  families  in  Mary- 
land have  IkuI  in  their  possession  for  many  generations  what  each 
claims  to  be  the  gt'nuine  Chesapeake  Hay  dog,  and  at  the  late 
bench-show  in  Haltimore  a  compromise  was  made,  anil  a  classifica- 
tion agreed  upon,  by  which  c;ach  of  the  types  is  here'iicer  to  be 
recognizeil.  'I'hese  are  to  be,  first,  the  otter  dog,  of  a  tawnv  sedge 
in  color;  with  very  short  hair;  second,  the  curly  Iiaired  dog,  red- 
brown  in  color,  antl  third,  thi;  straight-haired  dog  of  \.\vi  same  color. 
The  liogs  at  two  vears  old  should  weigh  no*^  less  than  eighty  pounds. 
Now  that  I  have  described  to  the  best  of  my  abiliiv,  and  within 
the  space  allotted  to  me,  the  tlifferent  varieties  of  our  sp^irting  tlogs, 
tin:  reader  Miust  tlecide  upon  their  merits  tor  himself  Nor  can  1  go 
mto  the  subject  of  training  ilogs  for  field-work,  for  1  believe,  in  the 
first  place,  that  good  tlog-breakers  are  born,  and  not  matle ;  i;nd 
secondly,  not  only  would  it  be:  taking  up  too  much  s|)ace,  i)ut  instruc- 
tions, if  they  are  of  any  value,  are  to  be  found  in  the  works  of  recog- 
nized and  much  better  authorities.  I  believe,  moreover,  that  to  a  great 
e.xtent,  those  sportsmen  who  are  even  ca])able  of  j)roperl\-  hanilling 
their  tlogs  in  the  field  after  they  are  broken,  are  in  the  possession 
'>f  a  gift,  1  might  almost  call  it  genius,  the  secrets  of  which  are 
patience  and  sc;lf-coinrol.  No  one  who  has  made  his  df>gs  his  con- 
stant companions  can  have  failed  to  be  struck  with  the  almost  human 
intelligence  they  sometimes  ilisplay,  and  a  man  who  wishes  to  con- 
trol his  dogs  must  first  control  himself.     I  have  known  an  old,  stanch 


1  ' 


Sonic  Anicricini  Sporting  Dogs. 


633 


BRKANINc;    YOLM;     1j()(.S. 


iloj4'  to  l)(;  loaned  by  liis  owner  to  sonu:  friends  for  a  day's  slioolin_L,^ 
After  \vorkiii<r  faithfiill)-  and  findini;-  hird  aft('r  hinl  which  they  failed 
to  kill,  the  old  fellow  droi)i)('d  his  tail  in  disgust  antl  starttnl  for 
homo,  ahandonint;-  his  share  of  the  sport  rather  than  witness  their 
want  of  skill.  The  most  suce<'ssfiil  men  in  the  field  an;  those  who 
possess  the  s^reatest  command  over  themselves;  not  aljusint^'  their 
doos  for  the  slightest  fault,  althoui,di  iisiny^  the  whip  judiciously  ;  for 
(.lo<r  naturt:  is  \-ery  likt;  human  nature, — some  will  do  wront^  from 
mere  willfulness,  awA  wxv.  onl\  to  be  controlled  hy  a  strouLJ  hand. 
That  doi^-^s,  whi'n  reifularh'  shot  o\cr,  enjo\'  tlu-  s|)ort,  is  heyontl 
(lucstion.and  sometimes  the  mere  putting  on  of  a  shootinjj^-coat  will 
drive  them  wild  with  excitement.  And  what  ^iijht  is  thc^re  more 
h"autiful   than  that  of  a  well  l)roken  do<>-  at  work   in  the  field  —  th(; 


instinct  which  teaches  the  wolf 


0',- 


lox  to  hunt  for  his  pre\-,  toned 


down,  or  rather  de\-eloped,  by  education  to  In;  ..'il)ser\  lent  to  tin;  will 
of  man,  ami  acct'ssory  to  his  sport!  \'ou  approach  ;i  lence,  and, 
havin_<j^  crossinl,  call  to  \'our  do*^'  to  do  the  same;  lor  a  dot;  sliould 
never,  in  theory  at  least,  be  allowed  to  enter  a  field  or  leave;  one 
before  you.      It  is  in  the  autumn,  and  in  the  woods  the  frost-painted 


, 


1'  «, 

i  • 


\ 

',''1 


I    t 


J'lVi.^ 


I'..'* 


■i:  »3 


ni'j 


IP 


f^i 


iii 


f  ■■!■ 


t  : 


i  i 


634 


Some  .  Imerkan  Sporting  Dogs. 


leaves  are  carpeting  the  ground,  while  in  the  open  the  golden  stub- 
ble is  being  burned  by  the  early  frosts.  Perhaps  it  is  a  buckwheat 
or  rye  field  where  the  quail,  as  active  gleaners,  still  find  enough  of 
the  scattered  grain  to  afford  them  subsistence  without  going  to  the 
swamps  for  buds  or  skunk-cabbage  seeds.  Here  they  have  been 
feeding  in  the  early  morning,  and  have  gone  to  the  hedge  or  that 
strip  of  dried  grass  for  their  noonday  siesta.  At  the  command  "hie 
on,"  or  "hold  up,"  your  dog  starts  on  a  gallop, — up  wind  if  possible, 
—  head  up,  to  catch  the  scent  which  may  be  drifting  across  the  stub- 
ble-tops, his  stern — as  his  tail  is  technically  called  —  whipping  his 
sides.  He  crosses  and  recrosses  the  field,  and  presently  comes  to 
where  the  birds  have  been  feeding.  In  an  instant  he  stops,  perhaps 
half  turning  to  where  the  faint  scent  still  lingers ;  but  only  for  an 
instant,  for  the  scent  is  cold ;  but  with  head  to  the  ground  and  stern 
excitedly  whipping  his  flanks,  he  either  "roads"  the  birds,  or,  taking 
another  cast,  the  wind  brings  him  the  hot  scent  of  the  bevy.  Half 
crouching,  he  advances  until  his  instinct  and  the  strong  scent  from 
the  birds  tell  him  he  can  go  no  closer,  when  he  stops,  with  tail 
extended  stiffly,  perhaps  one  fore-foot  lifted  as  though  ready  for 
another  step,  with  head  rigid  in  the  direction  of  the  birds,  and  a  few 
flecks  of  foam  dotting  his  quivering  nostrils.  Look  at  him  !  Was 
ever  a  more  perfect  statue  carved  ?  Take  your  time ;  he'll  stand 
perhaps  for  hours  if^the  birds  do  not  move.  Now  walk  up  to  him  ; 
touch  him  if  you  will,  and  still  the  iron-like  rigidity.  Now  step  for- 
ward. Never  let  your  c  og  flush  the  birds  if  you  can  help  it.  As 
you  pass  him,  the  bevy  rise  with  that  sharp,  quick  "whir-r-r-r" 
which  so  thrills  the  sportsman  as  frequently  to  cause  him  to  shoot 
too  quick  and  wildly.  Be  cool.  Select  two  of  the  outside  birds, — 
never  shoot  at  the  bunch, — and,  covering  them  carefully,  fire.  Your 
dog  drops  to  the  ground  or  the  "down  charge"  as  the  birds  rise,  and 
remains  so  until  you  have  reloaded  and  ordered  him  first  to  "hold 
up"  and  then  to  "seek  dead."  Ciive  your  dog  time.  Even  if  you 
fancy  you  have  marked  the  spot  where  the  bird  fell  to  an  inch,  he 
may  be  many  yards  awa)-.  The  dog  knows  how  to  look  for  him, 
and  will  cast  arouml  until  he  catches  the  scent,  and  will  road  him 
until  the  wounded  bird  stops,  when  he  will  point  him  again. 

I  have  said  that  your  dog  dropped  when  the  birds  rose.    No  young 
dog  can  be  considered  properly  broken  unless  he  drops  "to  wing" 


mk 


mk 


!! 


Some  American  Spoofing  Dogs. 


635 


m 

m 


DOWN    CHARGE ! 


and  "  to  shot" ;  that  is,  when  a  bird  rises,  and  when  the  gun  is  fired, 
and  with  young-  dogs  the  latter  at  least  should  always  be  insisted 
upon.  As  they  grow  older  and  stancher,  I  should  be  satisfied  if  they 
came  to  heel  when  I  fired.  There  are  times  when  it  is  positive 
cruelty  to  compel  a  dog  to  drop  to  shot,  particularly  in  the  case  of 
pointers  on  wet  snipe  meadows.  It  is  the  English  custom  not  to  break 
dogs  until  they  are  a  year  old.  We  begin  much  earlier,  and  a  puppy 
is  generally  sent  to  the  breaker  at  six  months.  I  think  much  should 
depend  upon  the  disposition  of  the  dog.  If  possible,  you  should 
house  or  yard-break  your  dogs;  diat  is,  teach  them  to  drop  or 
"  charge"  at  command,  to  come  in.  to  obey  the  whistle,  to  stop,  and,  if 
po.ssible,  to  retrieve,  before  sending  them  to  the  breaker.  Many  prefer 
puppies  born  in  the  fidl,  as  in  the  spring  they  can  be  broken  on 
snipe,  and  some  shcjoting  can  be  had  over  them  in  the  fall.  I  believe, 
however,  that  fall  puppies  are  much  more  difficult  to  rear,  from  the 
fact  of  their  being  likely  to  be  e.xposed  to  cold  and  wet ;  in  winter, 
too,  they  can  get  no  grass,  the  corrective  provided  by  nature  for  all 
canine  ills,  and  one  which  should  always  be  within  their  reach. 

The  puppy  should  also  be  accustomed  to  the  report  of  fire-arms. 


il     'I 

11  t 


HI 


\\\ 


' 


\       i' 


m 


m 
m 


636 


Some  American  Sportitig  Dogs. 


iV  j,  i     I 


\    w 


i  \ 


GROUND    PI-AN    OF    KENNEL. 


as  nothing  is  more  discouraging  to  a  sportsman  than  to  find  himself 
in  possession  of  a  "  gun-shy  "  dog.  This  is  to  be  done  by  taking 
him  to  the  field,  perhaps  with  an  old  dog,  and  by  using  at  first  small 
charges  of  powder,  fired  only  when  he  is  at  a  little  distance,  and 
perhaps  killing  some  small  birds — the  great  point  being  to  associate 
the  noise  "n  his  mind  with  some  pleasure.  Or  it  is  not  a  bad  idea  to 
fire  a  lightly  charged  gun  near  the  kennel  just  before  feeding  ;  but 
these  extra  precautions  need  only  be  taken  where  timidity  is  antici- 
pated. Gun-shyness  is  supposed  to  be  hereditary,  but  1  am  inclined 
to  think  that  where  puppies  are  handled  judiciously  at  first,  and  not 
startled  by  an  unexpected  report,  perhajxs  directly  over  them,  but 
little  trouble  is  to  be  apprehended.  Too  little  attention  is  paid  to 
the  care  and  diet  of  dogs.  They  are  left  chained  to  their  kennels 
for  days  at  a  time  without  exercise  and  without  change  of  bedding, 
until  they  become  afflicted  with  mange  or  covered  with  vermin. 
A  simple  and  efficacious  remedy  fcjr  mange  is  prepared  as  follows : 
Take  two  ounces  basilicon  ointment,  half  ounce  flour  of  sulphur, 
and  sufficien.  pirits  of  turpentine  to  make  of  the  proper  consistency. 
Wash  the  dog  thoroughly  with  carbolic  soap,  and  rub  the  ointment 
into  the  skin.      A   few  drops  of   Fowler's  solution    of  arsenic  is  of 


1 

r 

._-_ 

y 

"-"--" 

r 

1! 

.1 

r 

— 

— 

£ 

■^ 

— 

:, 

_ 

— 

— 

— 

— 

5 

! 

i    ° 

p 

i 

XT' 

r--|; 

P 

1 
1 
1 
1 
1 

'•t~\       c 

FRONT    ELEVATION    OF    KENNEL. 


I'f' 


Some  American  Sporting  Dogs. 


637 


I  ~m^ 


service  in  extreme  cases.  Where  but  one  clog  is  kept,  the  scraps 
from  the  table  should  be  ample  for  him  ;  but  where  food  must  be 
prepared,  there  is  nothing  better  than  oat  or  corn  meal  thoroughly 
boiled  in  water,  in  which  some  coarse  meat — such  as  a  neck  of 
beef  or  shin-bone — has  been  cooked  almost  to  shreds,  the  meat 
being  chopped  fine  and  mixed  with  the  mush.  The  dogs  should 
never  be  fed  more  than  twice  a  day.  But  the  great  cause  of 
death  among  dogs  is  distemper,  and  the  more  finely  and  carefully 
the>'  are  bred,  the  more  susceptible  they  appear  to  be  to  its  effects. 
Dogs  of  almost  any  age  are  liable  to  be  attacked, 
I  and  if  they  escape  with  life,  may  be  left  with 
chorea    or    St.   Vitus's   dance.      In    fact,    in   this 


SIDK    VIEW    Ol-    KENNEL. 


respect  distemper  is  not  unlike  measles,  which  often  leaves  a 
patient  with  some  other  disorder.  Frequent  post-mortems  have 
revealed  the  fact  that  distemper  in  some  of  its  forms  very  much 
resembles  pneumonia,  and,  as  in  that  disease,  a  certain  amount  of 
stimulation  is  necessary.  The  symptoms  are,  a  thick,  mattery  dis- 
charge from  tlie  eyes  and  nose,  with  a  dry,  husky  cough  and  a 
straining,  as  though  a  bone  were  lodged  in  the  throat;  a  hot,  dry 
nose,  and  general  listlessness,  with,  later,  a  weakness  of  the  hind- 
quarters. Fits,  in  puppies  particularly,  are  frequently  present,  but 
the  symptoms  vary  somewhat,  although  the  above  are  unmistakable. 
There  are  many  remedies  advocated  for  distemper,  but  I  believe 
there  is  none  more  generally  successful  than  that  suggested  by  Dr. 
Webb,  which  consists  of  a  course  of  calomel  and  quinine,  com- 
mencing with  a  dose  of  the  former,  varying  from  ten  to  twenty 
grains,  according  to  the  size  of  the  dog,  and  followed  by  doses  of 
five  to  ten  grains  of  quinine  daily,  reducing  the  dose  as  the  dog 
improves.  When  taken  promptly  in  hand,  and  the  dog  is  kept  in  a 
warm,  dry  place,  the  disease  generally  yields  to  this  vigorous  treat- 
ment.    Cleanliness  is  the   great  source  of  health,  and  when  more 


)7HKi 


r  MM 


'if' 


f. 


!  f 


\  I 


1 1 


•'  t 


M  ', 


h'^ 

638 


Sowc  .'liiiencan  SpoHiug  Dogs. 


KIUVAKI)    lAVKKACK,    l'.S(>.,  nil:    (II.DIST    IIKKKIIKH    or    MrlTIIUS    IN     l-NCIANll. 

than  Diu;  iIolj  is  kt-pt,  a  regular  kennel  and  yard  should  l)e  prepared. 
A  ca|)ital  idea  of  their  arranj^ement  can  be  had  troni  these  phuis, 
which  arc;  copied  from  those;  of  Mr.  Jesse  Starr.  Jr.,  of  Camden,  N.  J. 

I'urther  instruction  on  the  subjects  hi-re  treated  of  will  be  found 
in  such  exhaustive  works  as  Dinks,  Mayhew,  and  Hutchinson,  or 
"  Stonehenyi',"  or  "Idstone";  or,  in  .America,  Mr.  .Arnold  MurjLi^es's 
"American  Kennel  and  Sportin^^  l-'ield."  Mr.  lulward  Laverack 
the  oldest  breeder  in  I'Jij^lanil,  has  written  a  work  tievoted  to  the 
discussion  of  the  setter  alone,  in  which  are  many  valuable  hints  to 
the  breeder  and  breaker. 

No  doos  possess  greater  intellii;(;nce  or  more  excellent  dis- 
positions tlian  those  used  by  sportsmen,  and  where  careful  educa- 
tion has  developetl  them  to  a  hioh  tle<vree,  they  are  fitted  in  every 
respect  to  be  the  trusteil  ami  beloved  companions  of  man. 


I'^^L 


m 


NORI'II    AMI'KK  AN    (;R()1;SI 


hv    (IIAKI.KS     K.     WHni'.ll  KM). 


!  I 


WIII'IRI^  is  tin:  hill-si(l<:  cliinl)(;r  wliosc;  licjirl  lias  not  Icaiuul 
al  tin:  l)iirst  of  tin;  riitTcd  i^roiisc? 
Aiitiiiiin    leaves    art;   j^oldcn  ;     tlic   woodland   carjict   is 
sodden,  and  danip  with  dew  and  frost;  the,  dank  odors  ol  decay  and 
the  aromatic  balsam  hrini;  reveries  to  the  mind:  tin;  patcii  of  sunshine 
thn)ii.i,di   the  o|)(;nin!:,^   ^lade  warms  the   body  ;   a    listless   thoiij^dit  of 
soin(!  by-^one   face   is  fixinj;   your  eye;    your  hand   linj^ers  on   the 
polished  trunk  of  the  white-birch   tn^e  by  which   you  :u-e  steadyinjr 
yourself  to    swin,i,f   over   the   lichened    bowlder  that  bars   \(iur  way, 
when   whir,   whir,  whir-r,  whir-r-r,  whir-r-r-r  from   your  very  feet 
bursts  out  the  cock-bird.       The  l)ri.i,dit  leaves  lly   in   spant^les,   the 
sharp   twi<,rs  crackle,  and    the   le-afy  bou.trhs  sjjatter   to  his  beatinjr 
winus,   as,  svviM-vint,^   to  the   rit,du  and   left,  he  dashes  away  throu},di 
bush  and  o|)en  t^lade,  and  over  the  ravines  and  out  of  sij^dit,  h^avin^^ 
the  spectator  with  a  flush  on  his  brow  and  a  prickh;  in  his  back,  with 
his  mouth  half  open,  lookini;  the  way  hi;  went.      No  lady's  bird  is  he. 
His  ri;treat  is  the  roujrhest  hill-siiU;,  where  rock  and   ravine;  make 
walkin_<(  difficult  and  noisy,  or  swami)s,  wlu;r(;  fall(;n   trees  and  moss 
cover  the  i^round  knee-deep,  and   h(;mlock   and  s])ruce  afford  covert 
and  buds  for  footl.      Sometim(;s   in   i)airs  they  are  found  wanderinj,^ 
away  throuijh  the  open  woods  in  s(;arch  of  insects  or  beech-nuts; 
and  aj^jain  they  will  travel  alonjr  the  edi,u  s  of  j^rrain-fields  that  adjoin 
swamp-land,  to  j^lean  the  wheat.     When  snows  are  dee[),  th(;y  visit 
old  orchards  and   pick   the  unL,deaned  a|)ples  ;  and   if  the  winter  is 
severe  they  can  live  on  spruce-buds  or  laurel-b(;rries. — thus  making 
the  taste  of  their  winter  flesh  bitter  or  even  poisonous. 


!'  r^ 


')  I 


<  im 


m 


11 


*      I 


i 


640 


Noytli  American  Gyoiisc. 


\\'\ 


%  I 


■iM 


i  i 


J   1 


'■<!  ff  ' 


\\:\ 


Hi.    1 


i*. 


The  ruffed  grouse  lives  abundantly  from  New  Hrunswick  to  the 
prairies  of  the  West,  from  Canada  to  the  Southern  States, — keeping 
in  the  South  to  the  high  or  mountainous  lands.  It  is  the  most  noble 
and  alert  of  all  the  grouse  family.  The  shape  of  its  body  and  the 
pose  of  its  head  indicate  robustness,  both  in  walking  and  flying,  and 
wonderful  quickness  in  observation.  Its  small  crested  head  turns 
with  constant  vigilance,  and  its  full  brown  eye 
is  e.xpressive  of  great  power  of  vision,  and  seems 
to  reflect  the  landscape  immediately  after  death. 
Its  wings  are  short  and  curved,  beating  the  air 
with  great  rapidity  and  giving  it  an  exceedingly 
rapid  flight.  Once,  breakfasting  above  New- 
burgh,  on  the  Hudson,  at  a  country  house 
where  heavy  plate  glass  windows  extended  to 
the  floor,  we  heard  a  heavy  blow  on  the  window. 
Running  out,  we  found  a  cock  grouse  lying  dead 
on  the  lawn.  A  glance  at  the  window  revealed 
the  cause  ;  the  room  was  dark  within  and  the 
window  reflected  all  the  landscape,  and  the  bird 
crossing  over  to  its  covert  flew  into  the  mirrored 
copse  with  such  speed  as  to  kill  it  instantly. 

The  length  of  the  bird  is  about  eighteen 
inches, — its  full  weight  twenty-two  ounces.  Its 
color  is  light  brown,  mottled  with  darker  ])rown 
or  black.  It  wears  a  slight  crest,  which  it 
can  elevate  at  pleasure.  Its  tail  is  short  and 
rounded,  with  a  nearly  continuous  black  bar 
crossing  it  near  the  tip.  Its  legs  are  feathered 
with  a  hairy  feather,  and  are  well  proportioned, 


North  American  Grouse. 


641 


so  that  the  bird  stands  high  and  runs  witli  speed  and  endurance.  It 
wears  a  ruff  on  its  neck,  made  l)y  the  elongation  of  a  half  dozen 
glossy  black  feathers  on  each  side  of  the  neck,  which  it  can  elevate 
or  depress  at  pleasure,  and  from  which  it  takes  its  name  of  ruffed 
grouse.  These  feathers,  as  well  as  its  other  exterior  feathers,  are 
dark  brown  or  chestnut,  or  ashy  gra)',  varjing  much  with  individuals 
in  different  localities,  those  in  countries  farthest  north  and  east  being 
the  darkest  and  most  ashy.  In  the  western  birds,  the  color  is  more 
rufous.  These  differences  of  color  have  iniluced  some  writers  to  note 
three  varieties  of  ruffed  grouse  ;  but  it  would  seem  as  if  these  differ- 
ences of  color  are  produced  by  local  causes,  for  we  often  find  the  same 
bird  on  the  Pacific  coast  having  a  marked  variety  of  color.  Authcjrs 
have  named  one  variety  as  the  Sabine's  grouse  of  Oregon,  and 
another  as  the  Arctic  ruffed  grouse  of  the  Arctic  regions.  In  that 
beautiful  monograph  of  the  "  Tetraonida;,"  by  PllHott,  we  find  illus- 
trations of  both  these  so  called  varieties.  Without  intending  to  dis- 
pute their  e.xistence,  a  reference  to  the  description  of  the  Arctic 
grouse  will  show  from  what  slight  variations  a  new  variety  is  named. 
That  author  specifies  the  marks  that  distinguish  it  as  a  different 
variety  from  the  ruffed  grouse,  and  mentions  as  the  principal  mark 
its  size,  it  being  one-third  smaller ;  claiming  also  that  the  black 
band  on  the  end  of  the  tail  is  not  continuous,  but  skips  the  three 
middle  feathers.  .After  reading  this  description,  the  writer  looked 
over  a  game-bag  of  ruffed  grouse  killed  in  the  nor*^hern  part  of  the 
State  of  New  York,  containing  twenty  rufous-colored  and  ashen 
grouse  of  many  shades  ;  in  two  instances  the  band  was  scarcely 
visible  in  the  middle  feathers,  and  in  three  instances  it  did  not 
exist.  The  diminished  size  in  the  Arctic  region  would  be  an  effect 
of  nature  generally  recognized. 

In  the  breeding  season,  the  cocks  select  some  fallen  tree  and, 
strutting  up  and  down,  beat  with  their  wings,  making  a  muffled  drum- 
ming sound  that  can  be  heard  for  half  a  mile.  The  beat  is  at 
irregular  intervals,  beginning  slowly  and  measurcdly,  and  gradually 
increasing  in  quickness,  until  it  ends  in  a  roll.  If  the  bird  happens 
to  find  a  dry,  well-placed  log,  his  tattoo  of  welcome  can  be  heard  a 
mile,  and  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  woodland  sounds.  It  has  the 
same  accelerated  pace,  and  is  about  the  same  duration  as  the  call 
of  the  raccoon,  and  is  only  heard  in  the  day-time,  as  the  raccoon's 
41 


I' 
'III 

A     if'  1 

ii 


'■vl 

1 1  V  , 


II 


>t>ii 


•I  1 


ii 


642 


Nofth  Ameyicau  Grouse. 


TIIK    URlMMINOI.Ol.. 


W^ 


''■X    ; 


is  only  heard  at  nijrht.  I'sually  the  same  cock  continues  to  use 
the  same  lojj;,  but  he  will  sound  his  call  from  any  other  place  as 
well,  the  noise  heinir  produced  by  the  blow  of  the  winjj;'  against  the 
body.  When  its  mate  hears  the  drumming,  she  slowly  approaches, 
and,  coquettishly  pickinj^  at  seeds  she  does  not  want,  comes  within 
sight  of  the  drumming-log.  .A.  snail  is  on  the  May-apple  plant  right 
before  her;  she  pecks  at  it  three  times  before  hitting  it,  and  then 
scratches  negligently  at  imaginary  seeds.  The  cock  raises  his  ruff 
till  it  looks  like  Queen  Elizabeth's ;  the  yellow  skin  beneath  flushes 
with  pride  ;  he  spreads  his  tail  like  a  fan  ;  he  thrums  his  guitar, 
clucks  an  introductory  welcome  or  two,  and  launches  himself  out 
and  flies  to  his  bride.  If,  however,  another  cock  hears  the  drumming, 
he  feels  insulted  at  the  sound  on  what  he  considers  his  own  domain. 
He  flies  to  the  drumming-log  and  dashes    at  the  brave  drummer. 


#1! 


i 


North  Anicnctiii  iiyoiisc. 


643 


and  the  one  who  is  inferior  in  coiir.ijfe  iind  stren}j;th  yields  iiis  ])hice 
to  the  bolder,  and  retires  iliscomfited. 

After  the  two  birds  have  come  toj^ether,  the  hen  builds  a  hasty 
nest  on  the  jrround  with  twijj^s  and  j^rasses,  laying  in  it  from  ten  to 
twelve  e^gs,  of  a  yellow-brown  color,  which  are  hatch(.'d  in  June,  the 

yonn},^  birds  attaininj^f  their  j^rowth  l)y  the   first 
of  October,   unless,  as  it  often  happens,  floods 


or  late  snows  retard  the  nestinjf,  when  the  younj,^ 
come  to  maturity  proportionately  later. 

The  habits  of  the  mother-bird  when  running'- 
with  her  young  are  conspicuous.  Her  ceaseless  activity, 
her  boldness  in  danger,  her  sagacity  in  finding  fooil,  her 
ability  in  controlling  the  dimity  little  chicks  conlkled  to  her  charge, 
perpetually  challenge  admiration.  With  a  warning  cluck  which  the 
young  understand  perfectly,  she  flies  away,  and  they  run  under  the 
brown  and  scattered  leaves,  lying  so  still  and  so  matched  in  color 
that  no  one  can  detect  them,  and  when  hidden  they  will  not  move 
unless  they  are  touched.  Or  if  tlu;  passer  comes  suddenly  upon 
the  brood,  the  mother's  distressed  cluck,  her  fluttered  wings,  and 
her  tumbling  on  the  ground  irresistibly  draw  you  t.)  her.  She 
gradually  flutters  along,  uttering  lamentable  cries,  an  1  when  you 
are  about  to  place  your  hand  on  her  back  she  skates  away  through 
the  forest  glade,  uttering  a  note  which  w(;  can  (easily  translate  into 
"  April-fool. " 

This  bird  is  the  friend  of  the  country  boy.      It  has  many  a  time 
made  him  jump  as  it  burst  out  of  the  way-side  bushes,  and  bird  and 


li:. 


m 


644 


Nofih  Amcncan  Grouse. 


jf    ; 


»!II    I 


■   y 


i 

^^ 

) 

\ 

m 

^■^ 

w 

\ 

1, 

j:-- 

V 

A 

Twncii-i  1 

f'i    il 


\W^ 


\niy  perpetually  match  their  wits  against  each  other, — the  one  in 
trapping  and  the  other  in  avoiding  being  trapped.  Master  Haretooi 
finds  a  drumming-log,  antl  at  once  wiiips  out  his  jack-knile  and, 
bending  down  a  neighboring  hickory  sapling,  sets  a  twitch-up,  with 
a  slip-noose  at  the  end,  made  of  a  string  pulled  out  ol  oiu;  of  his 
capacious  pockets.  The  twitch-up  Ixjing  well  watched,  is  suri'  to 
catch  the  bird  or  drive  it  away.  As  Barefoot  grows  older,  he  learns 
to  set  running  snares  of  horsediair  or  silk  in  the  paths  in  the  woods, 
and  he  will  walk  miles  to  attend  them  when  he  is  too  sick  to  go 
half  a  mile  to  school.  At  length,  he  grows  to  Ix;  a  joung  man, 
"some  farmer,  some  poacher,"  making  a  precarious  living  by  sell- 
ing game  he  has  trapped  or  shot  in  season  and  out,  and  killing 
more  birds  than  all  the  minks,  owls,  and  foxes  in  th(;  country 
side. 

There  is  a  curious  habit  in  the-  ruffed  grouse  of  taking  to 
the  trees  when  pursueil  i)y  a  small  dog,  and  when  a  number  of 
them  tlit  into  one  tre(.',  tlu;y  will  sit  and  be  shot  at  until  they  are 
all  successively  kilUid,  providing,  always,  that  th(;  lowest  is  killed 
first,  and  the  dog  keeps  up  his  barking.  l-'or  tiiis  chase  a  little 
red  dog  is  preferred,  and  doubtless  the  birds  an;  accustomed  thus 
to  save  themselves  when  pursued  by  foxes,  and  the\'  see  no  differ- 
ence in  their  canine  pursuer,  and  are  more  in  fear  of  him  than  of 
the  gun,  whose  character  th(;y  do  not  know  so  well. 


m 


North  Amcncnii  Grouse. 


645 


'^^: 


f 


M  KdS".     I  III:    i'AIII. 

Tlu-  riiHcd  |L(niusf  parlaki  s  of 
the;  stiirdy  iialiin-  ol  tlic  wootis  he 
/         ;•,      ^    '  rrc(|ii(nls.      lie    is  a   ri-al    Norlli 

crmr,  ami  j,d(!aiu.'cl  his  livini^  with 
tlu;  I'lirilaii  aiiioiiL;  the  rocks  and  scaurs  of  N(nv  I'jiLjIand.  'l"oo  proud 
to  inii^ralc,  he  halllcd  with  the  sloruis  of  ihc  "stern  and  rock  liouiul 
coast,"  and  \vhc;n  winter  snows  fell  heavily,  and  the  sviarchiuL;  wind 
penetrat(.'d  ev(Mi  the  tanL,de  of  the  spruce-swamp,  he  would  find  a  lee 
on  the  {ground,  and  suffer  hinis(;lf  to  he  snowed  under,  and  (|uietly 
wait  under  his  white;  blanket  till  the  tempest  ceased.  Sometimes  he 
tlashe.s  out  before  the  ploddim^  woodman,  all  covered  with  snow- 
flakes,  l(;avin_i(  his  little  shelter  plainly  visible  in  the  drift. 

'I'he  true  shootini,^  season  of  this  bird  bej^nns  in  the  brisk  and 
j^oIcUmi  autumn.  The  s|)()rtsman  followint,^  him  needs  an  active  ste|) 
and  a  wondrous  (|uick  eye  ami  hand  to  secure  him.  .No  I'ird  that 
flies  is  oftener  missed.  I  le  rarel)'  lies  to  a  ilojr.  y\  carelul  pointer 
will  show  sitnis  ol  j^ame,  and  commence  trailing;'  him,  for  the  scent  is 
stronj^;  but  he  bursts  away  well  ahead  of  the  dot;,  L^cniTally  flyinj,' 
in  a  straij,dn  line.  .An  experienced  sportsman  will  take  the  shot,  no 
matter  how  lonl,^  and  carefull)-  notinj.^  the  line  of  ni_i:,dit,  will  flush 
him  a}.jain,  and  a<.,Min   fire  at  him.      .After  a  few  salutes  of  this  kind, 

41 A 


Ifi 


I'l: 


I 


^w 


U,!  .    I' 


646 


North  American  Grouse. 


L<! 


t    n 


he  seeks  to  avoid  th<;  cxiiosurc  by  hiding.  Then  th<;  sportsman, 
followinj^  close  after  his  dojr,  keepinj^  always  ready  for  a  shot,  may 
see  the  dog  halt  sharjj,  pointing  to  a  thicket  of  briers  and  cnt  brush, 
then  recalling  the  runs  which  he  had  made  before  the  previous 
points,  will  st«;p  forward  slowly, — slowl), —  with  his  head  high  in  air 
and  eyes  intent;  a  pause, — his  fof)t  is  up  f(jr  another  step,  wh<;n  the 
bird  rushes  out  again,  scattering  the  brush  with  his  quick  wings, 
and  whirling  off  the  saffron  leaves  from  the  white  birch.  Never 
mind  th<:  aim,  —  the  gun  comes  up  to  the  line  f)f  flight,  the  sharp 
report  awaki  ns  tiie  echoes  of  the  hills,  and  the  pride  of  th<:  wood- 
land falls  to  the  ground,  lirav't  old  bird,  he  died  in  the  prime  of 
life  !  No  iKise  snare  shall  choke  him  ;  no  liorncrd  owl  or  stealthy 
mink  shall  pick  his  bones  ;  but,  roasted  before  a  hif  kor)-  fire,  he* 
will  be  served  hot  as  the  second  course  to  a  gentle  me.d,  and 
have  his  virtues  told  by  hunters  who  hontjr  his  name  and  worth, 
as  they  tell  stories  of  the  chase,  or  carol  snatches  of  Thoreau's 
songs  in  the  autumn  night. 

"  shot  of  the  woofl  from  thy  ambush   kiw, 
Holt  off  the  flry  k-avcs  fiyin;: ; 
U'ith  .1  whirring  siirinf;  like  an   Indi.T)  how, 

Thou  speefiest  wh'.n  the  y(.-;ir  i,  'lyi'ig; 
.And  thy  ra-at  j^ray  form  fiarts  whirling  past. 
So  silent  all  as  thou  fliest  fast, 
Sna|j|)ing  a  leaf  from  the  cojise'-  refl, — 
(Jur  native  M.'i  on  the  woofJIaml  bred. 

''■And  thy  whirring  wings  I   ln.-ar, 

Wlien  the  '  olored  i'.e  is  warming 
'I'he  twigs  r)f  the  forest  sere  ; 

When  the  nor'.hcrrn   wind,  a-storrning, 
Draws  '  old  as  death    round  the   Irish  hut, 
'{'hat  lifts  its  Mue  smoke  in  'lie  railway  1  ut, 
Arid  the  hardy  <  hopjur  sits  dreaming  at  liorne, 
.And  ihou  and   I   are  alone  in  the  st'jnn." 


The  spruce  grouse,  or  Canada  grousr:,  is  smaller  than  the  ruff<;d 
grousf;,  its  length  be-ing  about  sixlee-n  inches,  and  its  full  weight 
sixteen  ounces  Its  range  sf;f:ms  to  be  north  of  the  latitude  rjf  the 
Mohawk  Kiver  in  the  State  of  New  York,  and  extending  througli 
all  of  Canada  and  to   Baffin's  Hay. 


a      1 


■11 


HI 


I 


^v^: :  '-te  - 


%[ 


n!  IP 


\'\ 


tin 

;    If:;   i 

ili 

iiil 


\  ^;^^ 

^  «j«!i 


-  'J' 


i 


i  ji  I  I 


lilt  •  1 1 


:i 


-'1 


'.*! 


\i 


tfi*     ' 


1' 

1 

i 

N()y//i  .Inicriidii  Cmnse. 


649 


I  he  color  ')(  ilic  <;(H  k  is  dark  hn^wii  or  \!,r:\.^  inl(jrs)i(:rsi<l  vvilli 
Mack,  <;a<-h  fc  iilicr  liavin;f  llinc  cross-bars  of  a  still  darker  ;,'ray. 
On  its  hrcasl,  is  a  iar^c  angular  or  <  ri'S(;<iU  patch  o(  Mack,  the 
point  of  the  ai)};lc  coiiiin;.f  up  the  ii<(  k.  Its  throat  is  Mack  directly 
under  the  hill,  and  is  mottled  Inrtlier  down  hy  little  white  feathers, 
and  still  larj^^er  white  feathers  patch  its  hreasl.*  Its  le^^^s  are 
feathered,  hut  its  Iocs  are  hare,  as  are  all  of  this  ^«:niis.  '\\\v  hen 
is  <|iiieter  in  ( olor,  inoitled  all  over  in  r<il  and  hroun.  It  has  the 
haliil  of  its  im(  <•  of  making;  a  drunnnin^^  noise  with  its  win^^s,  hnt 
.i-cMis  to  do  il  hy  repe.iled  hlows  fjn  its  own  hody,  and  sometimes 
makes  this  noise  whet)  in  the  air.  Some  anth(»rs  noK;  another  hird, 
(all<(|  franklin  ;^ronse,  which  is  a  variety  of  this  on<r.  Tin;  tail 
I'-aihers  Ixin;^  (  arried  out  wide  to  the  end  ,,  and  the  uppi-r  and  under 
tail  covirts  hein;.;  tipped  with  white.  These  variations,  when  unac- 
companied hy  ;uiy  dilfentnce  ol  structure  or  hahils,  seem  to  l«-  of  no 
imporlan(  e  to  the  ordinary  reader  or  to  ihit  sportsman. 

I  h'  |)!ii(<-  ;.M-o(ise  makes  its  nest  on  the  ground,  '"-nirally  she|- 
l(i<(|  \)^  ,omi-  low  i-verj^reen  hush,  and  l.iys  Idtccn  ii;  tVv<  nty  huff 
or  fawn  1  ojored  e;.i<.;s,  spfitted  with  hrown.  Often,  when  one  v,  \\\\ 
\\v^  fmm  a  (  auoe  in  some  fjf  the  narrow  hro(jks  in  .Maine  or  <  anada, 
a  hroixl  of  the.c  l,ird  .  wiil  !)<•  sei-n  lhre,;din^  their  vvav  .unon;'  tin- 
hushes  <ir,  il  tin-  weather  is  hot,  (oniin;^  to  the  water  to  drink,  so 
^^(•ntle  in  their  lemoleness  hom  man  that  tluy  scarcely  notite  the- 
passiuj^  hoat.  .At  limes  like  thes<  ,  they  make  use  ol  a  little  pipiii}^ 
cluck  that  is  most  gentle  and  fimiliar,  hy  which  tli<-  old  hird  (alls  the 
youn;^  ones  of  the  (lo(  k  to  lur  wh<rnev<:r  she  finds  any  attractive 
forjrl  in  tile  rotten  wood  or  anion;.;  the  fallen  mast.  A;^ain,  they  may 
he  seen  anion;;  tin:  upper  hranrhes  of  the  tallest  spruce,  jjickin;.(  the 
wint.<:r  huds,  and  at  their  threat  elevation  lookin;,^  as  small  as  snow- 
hirtls.  When  pursued,  they  take  <|uickly  to  the  trees,  and  s<:em  to 
le(;l  si^cure  in  tliejr  elevation,  and  ar<-  then  e.isily  shot.  In  the  coldest 
winter,  when  lli'  <aril>ou  himter  !■,  makin;;  his  cam|<  iti  the  evenin;^ 
f(jr<!st,  when  the  deep  snow  (Te.iks  under  his  snow-shoe,  and  the 
thermometer  sink  ,   to   thirty  deMfc.',  I, clou   /ero  in  thi-   ,lill  air,  some 

•All  ihi-  iu;il<-  1)1111)  III  liiis  s|/(i  il- ,  ttliji  11  I  h.iv'i-  iliul  ilunii^  the  l.iUc'  pari  i/f 
Se|jtcml)CT,  in  tin-  womls  otriortli-wcstcTii  M.'iidc,  liad  aroiinrl  ifii.-  eye  a  1  iiara<  tcri.siic 
hroail  oval  jjand  ul  l<.ii<-  ficsli  of  a  liri^tit  <l(.'i;|)  oran;.^i:-<.olor.  In  tlie  females  this  lol- 
orcd  liand  i^  narrower,  ;ind  borders  'jiily  ifie  (ipjicr  half  of  tf)e  eye.  —  I'.DlioK. 


■ill 


% 


1^ 

if- 

..M  ■ 
,1  ■■■\\  . 


%y 


^^\ 


w 


\ii\i 


;,t  ■  t 


V    i      > 


l\ 


650 


NoHli  Anieyican  Grouse. 


II.MSMVKS    AT    IIOMI.. 


of  tin  s«;  j^r.'iccful  birds  will  conic  niiiniii}^  over  the  snow,  familiar  in 
the  desolation,  and  contentctd  and  secure  in  their  winter  home,  prov- 
int,"^  how  a|)t  for  their  |)osition  in  life  (iod's  creatures  arc;  everywhere 
made.  ( )nce,  returnini^r  to  om- loj,^  hut  after  an  absence  of  several 
days  on  an  (txplorin;^  tour,  w«;  peered  tlirouj^h  the;  openin^f  that  was 
left  for  the  window,  and  saw  a  l)rood  of  these  flossy  birds  p(;ckinj^ 
about  lh(;  floor  and  forajrini;  on  the  remains  of  our  feast.  Tiiey 
crept  into  the  empty  Hour  barrel,  and  pried  into  the  tin  meat-cans, 
and  one  ol<l  cock  flitted  upon  the  tal)l(!  and  perched  on  the;  <'<i^^e  of 
a  tin  pan.  Mis  weij^jht  upset  the  dish,  which  clatt(;red  upon  the  floor, 
when  th(;  j^jay  foraj^ers,  scared  by  the  din,  whirled  out  of  the  open 
door  like  "a  swarm  of  ^fold(;n  bees,"  takinj^  refuj^a;  in  the  neighbor- 
ing h(!mlocks.  TIk'V  were  not  disturbed  by  us,  for  such  ^(;ntl(? 
spirits  brinj;  j^rooii  luck  !o  the  hunt<;r's  camp.  Like  the  little  j^^ray 
wootl-mouse  that  comes  oiit  of  the  loj^s  and  gathers  the  evc.'ninj^f 
crumbs,  they  hmd  a  certain  douK.'stic  charm  to  the  lonely  hut  that 
makes  the  solitary  woodsman  feel  he  is  not  alone. 

ihe  pinnated  j^rroust",  or  prairie-fowl,  is  in  numbers  and  use  the 
most  conspicuous  of  the  .American  j^rouse.  Its  ran^e  is  over  all  the 
open   prairie-land  of  tlu;  North   ,\merican  continent,  extcndinjr  even 


Ml 


rc 


^'IS 


IS, 


'y 


It 


Noyth  Anicncaii  (iroiise. 


65  < 


to  the  I'acific,  altliouj^'h  the  change  of  the  climate  tliere  lias  produccxi 
some  chanjres  of  |>liimaj^M",  which  cause;  its  identity  to  he  douhted.  It 
is  a  larger  hird  than  the  ruffed  grouse,  its  fl(;sh  heing  dark,  while 
that  is  of  a  white  or  pink  color.  Its  plumage  is  light  brown,  nearly 
uniformly  harred  on  the  hn^ast,  and  spotted  on  the;  hack  with  a 
dark(T  brown.  I'ormerly  it  exist(;d  on  the  plains  of  I-ong  Island, 
New  Jersey,  and  Maryland,  but  ceaseless  hunting  has  destroyed  it  in 
all  States  east  of  Indiana. 

It  makes  a  n<st  of  grass  in  the  open  prairie,  laying  ten  or  twelve 
eggs  of  a  light  color,  spotted  with  irregular  brown  spots,  and  hatches 
in  June;  ;  and  generally  the  young  are  sev(;n-eighths  grown  by  the 
fifteenth  of  August,  when  the  laws  of  1  lost  of  the  Western  Stales 
permit  the  shooting  of  them.  In  lllin<jis,  Iowa,  and  Wisconsin  it 
is  not  unusual  for  a  s|)ortsman  to  kill  sixty  in  a  day,  at  the  opening 
of  the  season,  hi  winter,  when  tin;  snows  compel  them  to  come  near 
the  woods  and  the  wli<:al  stacks  for  ftjod,  they  are  trapped  in  gnat 
numbers,  packed  in  barrels,  and  sent  to  the  cities  of  the  l!astern 
Statc;s,  and  even  to  London.  It  is  not  unusual  for  shippers  to  send 
a  hundred  barrels  of  this  game  in  a  single  ccjnsignuKtnt  to  New  York. 
It  is  this  wholesale  trapping  and  exportation  which  is  exterminating 
the  species.  Wln^n  the  bird  is  young,  it  remains  in  its  original  covey, 
and  when  disturbed,  scatters  in  the  tall  prairie-grass,  and  can  then 
be  flushed  ov(;r  th<;  dog,  one  at  a  tiuK;,  so  that  the  sportsman  is  thus 
often  able  to  sttcure  the  whole  cov<;y.  Lat'-r,  s(!veral  coveys  unite  in 
a  i^ack,  and  by  frosty  weatli(!r  several  small  packs  unite;,  forming  a 
pack  of  fifty  to  a  hundred  birds.  Then  they  keep  on  the  wide  range 
of  the  open  prairie;,  and  b(;com(;  wary  and  watchful,  and  cannot  b<; 
approached.  The  hunter  must  be;  cont(;nt  to  take  an  occasional 
l(jng  shot  as  the  pack  is  flying  ov<;r  him  from  cjne  point  to  anoth(;r. 
In  these  flights  the  fowl  sometimes  continue  in  the  air  t(;n  miles,  and 


M.iiMriNi;   A   ( DVi.v   01    ii.NNATP.r)  (;«im;sk. 


<     li 


u^ 


r  ^^ ! 


I  'V 


652 


North  American  Grouse. 


'»  fti.y"'.i'15fr«.--'     '^-'hV*ih-\i 


.j.f 


Tin;    iiiTr.KNTii   nr   ai;(;(  sr  on    imi.    I'KAikii. 


(lisUmci;  all  pursuit.  Still,  tli(;r(;  an;  now  and  tlicu  s(»iu;  late  autumn 
(lays  \s\\vw  tiic  warm  sunshine.-  nrcalls  the  summer,  and  when,  in  the 
siiclt(;r('d  sloii^lis  of"  tlic  prairie,  protected  hy  low  hills  and  rank 
^rass,  a  covity  will  lie  close,  too  indol(;nt  to  fly  away,  and  will  rouse 
themselves  one  liy  one  before  the  pointer.  I  hes<-  are  iialcyon 
moments.  The  s|)ortsman's  nerves,  hraced  l)\  weeks  of  autumn 
shootinjr,  are  strong  and  st(;ad\,  and  every  irrouse  that  s|)rint;s  into 
the  air  falls  with  a  thud  to  the  L,rround,  after  lh<'  rintrint;'  shot. 
I'-very  l)ird  is  a  lidl-i^rown  one,  an<l  the  ^-illi"  l)o\  sla.^^crs  under  his 
load. 

'rh<:  true  manner  of  slioolinL,r  prairie-fowl  is  to  drive  oxer  tixt 
prairie  in  a  li}.(ht  wa-^on,  lettinL,^  the  doi;s  rani^e  tar  and  wide  on 
cither  sicU;.  .\  well  trained  do|L,f  will  r.int^e  at  times  a  half  mile 
from  the  wa^on,  his  hrit^dit  colors  and  rapid  motion  rendering  him 
conspicuous  on  th  |)rairie.  When  he  scents  tlu;  birds  he  will  come 
to  a  point  so  suddenly  that  at  times  his  inertia,  when  attempting; 
to  halt,  will  swinii;  him  half  around.  lie  stands  as  it  he  saw  a 
jrhost.  The  w.ajfon  tlrives  n(;ar  to  him,  the  other  dot^s  cominjj;'  uj) 
and  hackini.;'  him.  The  sportsmen  then  alij.,dit  and  take  their  shots. 
Randy  the  whole  covey  is  flushed  Votrethei.  and  ir(;(|uently  th(!  old 
birds  lie  until  the  last,  and  while  the   sportsman   is  loadinj^r  his  jrun 


North  American  (irouse. 


653 


will  dash  away,  utu-rinjf  their  (|uick  rcju.-atcd  cry  of  "Ciuk-cliik-clulc- 
cliik,"  and  iocikin;^  i^ack  over  their  winj^s  at  the  s|j(;rtsman,  who 
watches  their  flij^dit  and  marks  them  down  Jialf  a  mile  awa).  As 
ont;  ^(jes  to  relri(;ve  tlie  dead  hirds  still  anoth(;r  and  another  will 
rise,  arid  it  is  only  until  one  has  been  carefully  over  the  field  that 
he  fe(ds  secure  that  all  the  birds  are  up.  I  he  driv<,r  in  the  mean- 
time, from  his  wa^^on,  has  markf-d  the  s<fveral  birds  down.  Tin; 
j^ame  that  is  s(;cured  is  placed  in  the  wa^on,  and  with  renewed 
hearts  the  sportsmen   push  on   aft<rr  the  fujritives. 

A  pointer  dojr  is  considered  the  b<!st  i\()<^  for  this  pursuit,  as 
his  endurance  and  speed  are  ^^n-at  and  he  stands  the  heat  without 
needinj^  water  better  than  setters.  And  no  one  who  has  not  tramped 
all  day  with  jLCame  through  the  prairie- j^jrass  can  appreciate  the 
relief  it  is  to  have  the;  wa^on  always  at  hand  to  carry  the  jfame  and 
luncheon  and  also,  at  tinif.-s,  llu;  weary  sport-iinan. 

Often  prairi(;-fowl  m(;et  their  fate  by  coming  in  contact  with  the 
telegraph  wires,  and  the  trackmen  on  the  railroads  constanll)-  find 
them  with  broken  necks  lyinj^  alon^  the  track. 

As  the  co)()te  or  prairie-wolf  has  disa|)|)earcd,  prairie-fowl  have 
jrreatly  increased  in  numbers.  This  restless  and  hun^^ry  marauder 
destroys  innumerablft  nests  and  siuin;,^  l,irds.  The  writer  was  (^nce 
watchini^  a  coyote  from  behind  a  prairie-knoll  and  saw  him  cn(;])  to 
windward  cautiously  and  then  jum]j  on  some  prey.  On  t^oinn  to 
the  spfjt  the  wolf  fled,  leavinj^r  the  feathers  of  a  ]jrairie-hen  and  her 
broken  eiL^.Ljs  to  mark  his  wast(;fulness. 

If  the  jHiblic  would  enforce  iIkj  laws  a^rainst  trappinL,^  the  birds  in 
winter,  they  would  j^reatly  incr<;ase.  lUil  it  re(|uires  the  extinction 
of  a  valuable  bird  to  leach  the  average  American  the  importance!  of 


1  Hi 


.! 


% 


TIIK    f.OyOTK    IlLNTINO. 


'fl 


\  i^\ 


^iJHHl 


i.  ,i 


.'') 


I  I 


m 


i  V: 


[/ .('. 


0'   I 


n 


654 


North  American  Grouse. 


its  preservation.  The  trapper  and  dealer  care  nothing  for  the  sport. 
They  look  only  at  the  present  money  profit  and  leave  future  gener- 
ations to  take  care  of  themselves.  The  true  sportsman  shoots  only 
as  much  as  he  can  use,  and  takes  a  pride  in  the  existence  and  security 
and  abundance  of  the  bird  he  admires. 

The  other  great  source  of  destruction  to  the  prairie-fowl  arises 
from  a  habit  of  the  Western  farmers  burning  most  of  the  prairie  land 
in  the  autumn,  and  reserving  small  patches  to  burn  in  the  spring,  so 
that  fall  grazing  will  grow  on  the  spring  burnings.  All  the  grouse 
in  a  county  finding  the  great  expanse  of  the  prairie  burnt  over  will 
nest  in  these  patches  of  brown  unburnt  grass.  The  farmer  then 
burns  this  grass  in  June,  destroying  every  nest  therein.  No  persua- 
sion can  induce  him  to  forego  this  habit,  as  the  fall  grass  is  of  more 
pleasure  to  him  than  the  bird.s.  The  only  remedy  is  for  those  inter- 
ested in  the  race  of  birds  to  go  over  the  country  late  in  the  fall  and 
burn  off  all  these  remaining  patches,  thus  forcing  the  grouse  to  nest 
on  the  burned  prairie. 

The  pinnated  grouse  has  the  power  of  inflating  the  two  yellow 
sacks  which  he  carries  on  the  sides  Of  his  neck,  and  during  the  mat- 
ing season  the  cocks  are  often  seen  strutting  and  swelling  in  mimic 
grandeur,  with  expanded  wings  and  tail,  and  making  a  thrumming 
noise  with  their  wings,  striving  to  please  by  their  grandiose  ways. 
At  these  times  they  are  pugnacious,  and  two  cocks  never  meet  with- 
out a  battle.  They  flit  up  in  the  air  several  feet  striking  at  each 
other  with  wings  and  feet  until  one  yields  the  place  of  honor  to  the 
other  and  departs  —  a  disappointed  bird,  to  lead  the  life  of  a 
celibate. 

One  autumn  day,  watching  for  ducks  while  ensconced  on  a  musk- 
rat  hou.se  in  the  great  Mendocio  marsh,  which  extends  back  many 
miles  from  the  Mississippi  River  opposite  Clinton,  I  noticed  some 
objects  moving  on  the  summit  of  a  knoll.  By  careful  watching  I 
discov  "ed  they  were  prairie- fowl,  and,  moved  by  curiosity,  carefully 
approached  them.  As  I  drew  near  I  discovered  fifteen  prairie-fowl 
apparently  dancing  a  minuet.  They  were  scattered  about  on  the 
short  turf,  twenty  yards  apart,  nodding  their  heads  at  one  another, 
and  presently  two  would  run  out  and  perform  the  figure  which  in  a 
country  dance  is  known  as  "  cross  over  and  back  to  places,"  all  the 
while  uttering  a  soft  note  of  "  coo-cooe" — the  last  syllable  being 


ni::V 


I 


North  A)nerican  Gyoitsc. 


655 


-■M-'-n'^'f--'^ 


i>5  ■    -h' 

A    I'KAIRIK    MlNl'F.T. 

much  elongated.  Then  would  follow  "  salute  your  partners "  and 
"■  dos  a  dos."  This  scene  of  merriment  was  sustained  for  half  an 
hour  and  until  a  shot  from  a  neijrhborinjr  gun  caused  the  birds  to 
run  into  the  tall  cover  of  the  reeds.  The  bright  sunshine  of  autumn 
and  the  conspicuous  group  of  native  birds  impressed  the  .scene  vividly 
on  the  spectator's  mind.  .\  neighboring  farmer  to  whom  the  circum- 
stance was  mentioned  said : 

"  Yes,  them  same  birds  skye  around  there  mostly  every  day." 
The  other  varieties  of  prairie  grou.se  indulge  in  the  same  kind  of 
amusement 

The  pin-tail,  or  sharp-tail,  grouse  is  a  close  connection  of  the 
prairie-fowl,  but  without  the  gular  sac ;  and,  like  that  bird,  it  inhabits 
the  open  prairie  land,  nesting  in  the  same  manner,  feeding  on  the 
same  food,  and  often  found  associating  with  him.  Its  size  is  the 
same,  but  its  color  much  lighter,  and  instead  of  the  dark-brown  bars 
on  its  breast,  it  carries  little  spots  of  a  V  shape,  of  a  light,  ashy 
brown.  Its  name  is  derived  from  the  two  middle  feathers  in  its  tail 
extending  beyond  the  others,  thus  forming  a  long,  pointed  tail. 

It  is  claimed  that  there  are  two  varieties  of  the  sharp-tail  grouse 
— one  in  the  Arctic  north,  and  one  in  the  central  territories  of  the 


.1    'I 


\m 


\h\ 


656 


North  Amcyicaii  Cwiisv. 


\\  A 


! 


?!.U 


!  '  I 


I    r 


coiuincnt,  (lach  with  a  slight  variation, — the  northi^rn  out:  havinj^  a 
black  instcail  of  a  l)ro\vii-coloiX'd  back.  If  this  is  so,  the  writer  has 
never  seen  the  Arctic  variety.  The  beautifully  inarkc.'il  one  with 
which  we  are  familiar  is  common  in  Kansas,  Nebraska,  and  Dakota; 
and  on  the  Platte  River  we  have  seen  it  rise,  with  its  whirriny^  llitjht 
and  lighter  ami  ashier  hue,  from  amon^  a  pack  of  pinnateil  j^rouse. 
Its  llesh  is  lighter  in  color  than  that  of  the  prairie-fowl,  and  more 
delicate  in  llavor. 

There  is  a  curious  habit  of  this  bird;  but  whether  connected  with 
its  matin<4  instincts,  or  only  with  its  love  for  social  amusement,  it  is 
difficult  to  answer.  It  has  a  littli;  ball-room  all  of  its  own,  and,  like 
that  of  the  country  j^drls  of  Italy,  it  is  under  the  open  sky.  A  circle 
of  j^round  on  the  prairie  is  adopted,  and  by  lieatinjr  of  winj^s  and 
tramping  it  is  cleared  of  grass  for  twenty  feet  around ;  and  there, 
morning"  and  evening,  the  party  assembles  and  pirouettes  and  court- 
esies as  in  the  olden  time.  Hy  twos  and  fours  they  advance,  anil 
bow  their  heads,  and  drop  their  wings ;  then  recede  and  advance 
again,  and  turn  on  their  toes,  swelling  their  feathers  and  clucking 
with  gentle  hilarity.  Many  cocks  join  in  the  dance,  but  there  is  no 
attempt  at  unseemly  batde.  It  is  gentleness  all,  and  the  hall  is  sur- 
rounded by  rustling  grass  and  golden  asters.  The  hunters  call  such 
a  spot,  as  they  jiass  it,  "chickens'  stamping-ground."  We  have 
already  noted  the  same  habit  in  the  prairie- fowl.  The  only  differ- 
ence between  the  two  birds  in  this  amusement  seems  to  be  that  the 
prairie-fowl  runs  over  a  larger  area  of  ground,  usually  selecting  some 
bare  knoll  covered  with  scant,  short  grass. 

The  sharp-tail  grouse  is  feathered  not  only  to  the  toes,  but  to 
the  first  joint  of  the  toes,  as  is  the  Rocky  Mountain  grouse ;  while 
the  ruffed  grouse  is  slightly  feathered  to  the  toes,  and  the  pinnated 
grouse  is  scarcely  feathered  to  the  toes.  The  true  ptarmigan  wears 
abundant  feathers  down  to  his  toe-nails. 


H 


As  the  miner  rides  over  the  bare  plains  that  form  the  approaches 
to  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  the  vivid  sunshine  reflected  from  bar- 
ren earth  and  red  hills,  with  the  glare  of  noon  blinking  the  eye,  and 
the  dust  of  the  dry  sage-bush,  pulverized  by  the  horse's  tread,  smart- 
ing the  nostril,  there  suddenly  flits  out  from  the  bush  a  large  bird, 
looking  at  first  glance  like  a  bustard.     It  stands  as  high  as  a  turkey- 


"k'  a 
has 

with 
l<ota; 
Hinht 
ousc. 
more 

with 
it  is 
ike: 
rclc 
and 

here, 

ourt- 
iitul 

ance 


North  Aincncaii  Croiisc, 


TIM.    fill. I, IF.    nOY. 


657 


hen,  and  after  a  short  fliji^ht  will  li.i^ht  on  the  stony  j^rrountl,  and  turn 
to  watch  the  passer-by.  This  is  the  Cock-of-the-plains,  or  Saj^e- 
hen.  Some  learned  folks  have  oi\en  it  a  curious  Latin  title;  hut  as 
most  sportsmen  prefer  shootinj^^  to  sludyin^^  Latin,  they  will  best 
recoirnize  the  homely  name  the  bird  is  known  by  in  its  own  country. 
The  color  is  a  lii^ht  ashy  J4ray,  marked  by  the  overlappinjr  feathers 
of  a  darker  gray.  It  is  the  largest  of  the  American  grouse,  being- 
thirty  inches  in  length,  and  is  distinguishable  in  ])lumage  by  its 
pheasant-shaped  tail  of  long,  pointed  feathers.  These  feathers  are 
spiny  and  hard  in  te.xture,  having  the  appearance  of  being  worn  off, 
and  leaving  the  quill  |)art  projecting.  This  is  noticeably  so  with  the 
tail,  the  quill  of  the  feather  extending  beyond  the  w(;l).  If  the 
stranger  follows  the  bird  after  lighting  for  the  first  time,  it  rises 
again  and  takes  a  free  fliglit  beyond  some  sheltering  knoll.  If  it  is 
42 


.  m 


1 1' 111 


m 


\  ii 


,;;: 


m. 


1 1 


r 


A 


.o> 


^> 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


/. 


1.0 


I.I 


{it  1 28     |25 

12.2 


m 


20 


1.8 


1.25    |{|.4   III  ITS 

^ 

6"     

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


33  WEST  MAiN  STREET 

WEBSTER, NY.  MS80 

(716)  873-4503 


658 


North  American  Grouse. 


not  pursucil,  it  s(|uats  upon  the  jfround  or  under  some  bush  until  the 
danger  is  past,  its  predominating^  color  corresponding  so  much  with 
the  ground  tliat  it  often  escapes  notice.  When  walking,  it  has  a  slow 
and  hesitating  march.  Its  location  is  over  the  whole  of  the  great 
plains  lying  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  wherever  the  sage-bush 
or  artemisia  grows.  This  is  its  frecjuent  food,  and  it  gives  a  pun- 
gencj-  to  its  white  flesh  which  renders  it  distasteful  even  to  the 
hungry  trapper.  It  has  the  saffron -colored  side-pouches  on  the  neck, 
similar  to  the  ruffed  grouse,  and  its  habits  of  swelling  these  glands 
and  strutting  and  thrumming  with  its  wings  are  similar  to  those 
of  the  prairie-hen.  It  builds  its  nest  on  the  ground  of  the  desert, 
giving  but  little  care  to  its  preparation,  and  lays  from  twelve  to  six- 
teen eggs,  dark  brown  in  color,  and  spotted  with  irregular  chocolate 
spots,  more  abundant  at  the  larger  than  the  smaller  end.  How 
its  nest  ever  escapes  the  ravages  of  the  coyote,  that  jackal  of 
the  plains,  is  a  wonder.  If  it  were  not  for  the  coyote,  the  number 
of  this  grouse  would  be  ten  times  what  it  is  now.  Its  flight  is 
that  of  all  its  family. — a  succession  of  (piick  short  beats,  which  at 
rising  makes  the  rushing  sound  that  so  bothers  the  nervous  sports- 
man, and  then  a  long  sail  with  extended  wings,  to  be  followed  again 
by  the  five  or  six  short  beats  of  the  wing.  .As  it  rises,  it  gives  forth 
its  note  of  "Cluck-cluck-cluck!"  repeated  very  r'pidly,  like  the  com- 
mon hen.  No  disappointment  is  greater  to  the  ine.xperienceil  and 
hungry  hunter  than  to  bring  down  one  of  these  noble  birds  anil, 
after  spending  an  hour  in  its  cooking,  to  find  that  it  tastes  like  tansy 
bitters,  with  the  bitters  left  out.  We  once  had  a  "poetical  cuss,"  as 
the  teamsters  called  him,  in  a  hunting  party  in  Wyoming  Territory. 
He  (|uoted  with  great  emphasis,  on  first  meeting  this  bird,  Hogg's 
lines: 

"  Hird  (if  tliu  wilderness, 

IJlithesomc  imd  cuinbcrlcss. 

(lay  ln'  thy  matin  o'er  moorland  and  leal 

KniMeni  of   ha])|iiness. 

Ulest  i)e  tiiy  dwellinj^-place, — 

Oh.  to  abide  in   the  desert   with  thee  I  " 


We  had  sage-hen  for  sup|)er  that  night.  The  next  morning,  when 
one  rose  before  his  horse  while  on  the  march,  he  was  heard  to  call 
out : 


hH 


North  American  Grouse. 


659 


<;H(>ISK    on     NKST.      (IKOM   a   IMIOTOOKAI'M    I  KOM   I.1I-K.) 

"  (iit  out,  you  quinine  brute !  You're  only  fit  for  a  |)rescrip- 
tion  ! " 

Yet,  for  all  his  astrinijency,  we  love  to  see  the  sa,ije-hen  on  the  sul- 
try march,  burstinjj^  out  from  the  bracken,  startinjj;  the  jackass-rabbit 
from  its  form,  and  awakeninjr  the  landscape  with  his  free  flij^ht. 

Tile  dusky  j^rrousc;  is  found  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  the 
various  spurs  of  hiy^hlands  that  are  connected  therewith. 

It  is  a  marvelously  ijraceful  bird,  often  quite  black,  or  blue-black, 
and  flecked  here  antl  there  with  little  pencilinijs  of  white  f(.athers, 
lookini;  as  thous^h  crystals  of  new  snow  had  fallen  u|)on  it.  These 
seem  to  be  the  tips  of  white  feathers  just  cominj^r  to  the  surface  of 
the  black.  .Somc:times  the  bird  is  dusky,  or  of  a  dark  slate  color, 
marked  with  white,  and  always  bearincj^  that  distintjuishini^  mark  of 
the  *frouse  faiTiiiv, — the  britrht-colored  streak  over  tin-  eye, — which, 
in  this  bird,  is  scarlet.  Its  tail  is  rounded,  anil  ornamented  with  the 
band  of  a  darker  hue  that  most  of  th«'  irrouse  family  possess.  It  has 
th(,'  jrular  sac  on  the  side  of  tlie  neck,  and  its  cry  in  the  s|)rin}.j-time 
is  like  the  blowinj^f  several  times  suddenly  into  an  empty  bottle. 


.'I 


! 
/ 

*■■! 


y    -if 


':     'it 


660 


North    American  Grouse. 


The  hunter  pursuing  jfaine  over  the  ridges  of  the  Rocky  Mount- 
ains and  among  the  dead  timber  that  the  Indians  kill  by  their 
annual  fires,  finds  this  bird  flitting  out  of  the  young  shoots  and 
sitting  on  the  low  branches  of  the  neighboring  trees,  its  little  head 
turns  from  side  to  side  as  it  examines  the  stranger, —  a  movement 
accompanied  by  the  nod  of  the  pigeon,  rendering  it  very  difficult  to 
shoot  off  its  head  with  a  pistol,  though  sometimes  it  allows  several 
shots  to  be  taken  before  flying. 

Its  proper  colors,  its  most  graceful  shape,  and  its  apparent  tame- 
ness  rendered  it  exceedingly  attractive  Its  flesh  is  constantly  in 
camp,  and  every  hunter,  as  he  comes  in  at  night,  will  have  one  or 
two  slung  to  his  saddle,  as  its  white  flesh  is  greatly  preferred  to  the 
continued  diet  of  elk's  meat  and  venison.  It  has  the  peculiarity 
noted  in  that  of  the  black  game  of  Scotland,  of  having  two  colors  of 
flesh  on  its  breast,  one  being  darker  than  the  other.  The  habit  it 
has  of  flitting  to  the  lower  branches  of  the  trees  on  the  slightest 
noise  beinjf  heard  is  explained  by  the  presence  of  the  ever-prowling 
coyote. 

This  !>ird  inhabits  all  the  mountain-lands  to  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
In  the  Cascade  Mountains  they  are  abundant,  under  the  name  of 
the  blui.?  grouse,  and  frequent  the  heavy  pine  or  redwood  timber. 
Anoth<.'r  variety  is  spoken  of  as  the  Richardson  grouse,  varying 
only  in  a  tail-marking.  In  the  fall  of  the  year,  the  blue  grouse 
leaves  the  lower  strata  of  vegetation,  where  it  is  liable  to  be  buried 
in  the  snows,  and  where  it  has  to  dispute  its  occupancy  with  many 
stronger  neighbors,  and  betakes  itself  to  the  upper  plane  of  the 
pine-tree  tops.  There,  two  hundred  feet  or  more  from  ground, 
it  finds  ample  shelter  in  the  dense,  perpetual  verdure,  and  unlimited 
supply  of  buds  for  food,  and  safety  even  from  the  eyes  of  man.  No 
retreat  could  be  so  absolutely  secure. —  nothing  but  the  lightning 
and  the  tempest  can  reach  it ;  and  its  morning  crow  heraUls  the 
day  while  yet  the  trunk  of  the  tree  and  the  humbler  birds  that 
live  near  it  are  wrapped  in  darkness.  When  winter  is  passed,  and 
little  sprouts  come  forth  out  of  the  ground,  the  grouse  descends 
to  its  old  resorts  and  builds  its  nest,  and  shuffles  in  the  sandy 
bank  as  it  did  the  summer  before.  This  is  a  true  bird  of  the 
mountain,  and  has  the  resinous  odor  of  the  woods  in  its  flesh.  It 
reminds  one  of  its  noble  congener  of  Scotland, —  the  black  cock, — 


IH 


North  AnierUrtii  Grouse. 


66i 


and  of  all  his  wild  ways  and   jrlossy  plumage,   and  tlu-  lon^   days 
on  the  heather,  and  of  the  moorlands  at  Dumfries,  and  of  the  old 

song : 

"  Ami  if  U|)  a  boiinic  black  <  i)ck  should  s|)nnn, 
'I'o  whustlc  him  <io\vn  wi'  a  slu^;  in  his  win^;, 
And  strap  him  on  to  my  liinsic  string. 
Rij^ht  seldom  would  I   fail." 

May  his  moimtain  fastnesses  protect  him  from  extermination  for 
future  a^es,  so  that  other  explorers  may  Ih-  charmed  as  \v<'  have 
been,  amid  sterility,  weariness,  and  him^er,  l)y  his  heauty  of  form 
and  delicacy  of  flesh  ! 

We  have  thus  told  our  tale  of  the  North  American  <jrouse.  The 
distinctive  fi.-atures  of  the  j^enus  are  the  hare  and  hrij^ht-coloretl 
jjatch  over  the  eye,  a  short,  curved  hill,  with  the  nostril  covered  with 
feathers,  anil  a  hairy  lej^.  with  hare  toes.  Our  story  is  not  a  book- 
story,  or  a  c(»mpilation, — it  is  •)ut  of  the  head,  it  may  be  somewhat 
out  of  the  heart.  It  iloes  not  claim  to  be  learned,  and  its  writer  will 
not  ilispute  about  a  feather ;  but  all  of  the  binls  nameil  are  old  friemls, 
and  he  ilare  not  caricature  them. 

There  is  another  j^enus  of  this  same  Titraoiiitio-  faniilx, — the 
j^enus  Lai^opits,  or  hair-foot.  The.se  have  the  toes,  as  well  as  the 
legs,  covi.-reil  with  feathers.  I'his  j^i.-nus  includes,  in  North  America, 
the  ptarmi}.jan,  the  white-tail  ptarmij^an.  and  an  .\rctic  ptarmis^un 
called  the  rock  plarmijran.  Their  habitat  seems  to  be  tln^  whoh- 
.Arctic  /one.  They  form  the  chief  delicacy  of  the  Arctic  explorer,  and 
hany"  plentifully  in  the  larders  of  the  posts  of  the  Hudson's  Hay 
Fur  Company.  When  the  winter  is  s<!vere.  they  come  down  into  the 
Canadas ;  ami  one  winter  a  hunting  frieml  on  the  Saguenay  —  goo'.! 
luck  to  him! — sent  us  a  barrelful.     Such  friemls  are  above  all  price. 

The  white  ptarmigan  is  all  white,  save  the  oul»;r  feather  on  each 
side  of  the  tail,  which  outer  feather  is  black.  The  white-tailed  |)lar- 
migan  is  as  immaculate  as  snow,  including  all  the  tail-feathers.  The 
remarkable  feature  of  the.se  birds  is  that  they  change  the  colors  <»f 
their  dress  to  suit  the  varying  year,  as  iloes  a  fashionable  laily,  only 
the  birds  vary  the  style  ,by  dressing  whit(;  in  winter  and  brown  in 
summer.  This  is  one  of  those  prudent  plans  of  I  )ame  Natun;  to 
pre.serve  a  race.  On  the  spotless  |)lains  of  winter,  a  brown  bird 
would  be  a  conspicuous  object  to  every  fox  and  snowy  owl  ;  so  he  is 

42A 


I 


, 


662 


North  American  Grouse. 


w  i 


draped  in  snowy  white,  and  scpiats  unnoticed  on  the  drift.  In  the 
summer  foliage  his  whiteness  would  allure  each  passin^f  hawk,  but 
the  brown,  mottled  color  of  his  summer  dress  matches  well  the 
bracken  and  thf,-  lichen,  aiid  he  thus  escapes  observation.  This  same 
care  Nature  bestows  on  the  snow-bird  and  the  great  northern  hare, 
both  of  which  frequent  the  snowy  plains. 

Hut  a  summer  evening  is  not  long  enough  to  write  the  story  of 
their  lives.  To  obtain  a  technical  knowledge  of  the  varieties  of 
grouse  or  ptarmigan,  one  may  study  Wilson,  or  Audubon,  or  that 
comprehensive  work  on  ornithology,  entitled  "  North  American  Birds, 
by  Haird,  Brewer,  and  Ridgwax." 

To  appreciate  the  Ijeauty  anil  learn  the  ways  and  manners  of  the 
birds  of  which  we  are  writing,  one  must  love  them,  and  with  Agassiz, 
"  wander  away  and  away  with  Nature,  the  dear  old  nurse,  who  sang 
to  him  night  and  day  the  rhymes  of  the  universe."  One  must  watch 
these  birds  in  their  own  homes — among  the  roughness  of  primeval 
nature  and  amiil  the  aroma  of  the  balsam  and  the  keen  air  of  the 
frosty  October — hear  them  beat  their  muffled  drums  antl  challenge 
all  comers  to  their  tournaments ;  and  it's  a  dull,  cold  heart  that  will 
not  throb  in  unison  with  their  defiance,  and  love  the  hill-side  the 
better  for  their  music. 


HOB   WHITli,   THE   (iAME    HIRD   Ol<    AMIiRICA. 


Uv    ALIKE  I)    M.    MAYKR. 


OP'  all  the  game  birds  of  America,  none  is  so  endeared  to  the 
lover  of  country  life  or  better  appreciated  by  the  sportsman 
than  little  Hob  White  He  may  be  found  from  st)uthern 
Maine  and  Canada  to  the  Gulf,  and  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  high 
central  plains,  and  he  is  known  by  various  names.  In  the  North 
and  East,  he  is  called  Quail ;  in  the  South  and  West,  he  is  Fart- 
ridge  ;  while  everywhere  he  is  known  as  Hob  White.  Let  us 
then  call  him  as  he  calls  himself,  and  we  will  not  be  berated  for  our 
ignorance  of  natural  history.  In  fact,  he  is  neither  quail  nor  part- 
ridge ;  but  ^o  our  mind  he  seems  more  akin  to  the  latter  than  to  the 
former  of  hh  Huropean  cousins.  The  (juail  of  Europe  is  a  smaller 
and  more  dumpy  bird  than  our  little  friend.  His  flesh  is  dark  and 
loaded  with  fat.  His  plumage  is  dull  and  his  aspect  plebeian.  He 
does  not  form  into  coveys,  but  flocks  at  the  periods  of  his  migra- 
tions, when  he  flies  at  night,  and  in  the  company  of  countless  num- 
bers, during  the  month  of  .April  crosses  the  Mediterranean  to  the 
European  shores  and  islands,  returning  to  .Africa  in  the  autumn.* 

•  "  The  (luails  assemble  at  the  approach  of  autumn,  to  i  ross  ilie  lilai  k  Sea  over  to 
the  southern  coast.  The  order  of  this  emigration  is  invariahle.  Toward  the  end  of 
August  the  (luails,  in  a  body,  choose  one  of  those  fine  (kiy>  when  tlie  wind,  i)h)wing 
from  the  north  at  sunset,  promises  them  a  fine  night ;  they  tal<e  their  de])arture  about 
seven  iti  the  evening,  and  finish  a  journey  of  fifty  leagues  by  break  of  day,— a  wonder- 
ful distance  for  a  short-winged  bird,  and  one  that  is  generally  fat  and  sluggish  of  thght. 

"Such  prodigious  i|uantities  have  ap])eared  on  the  western  coasts  of  the  kingdom 
of  Naples,  in  the  vicinity  of  N'ettuno.  that  oi/r  huihin-d  tlwiisatid  have  in  one  day  been 
taken  within  the  space  of  four  or  five  miles." — DanUrs  "Riiml  SporhP 


% 


i  'I 


1 

til 


J 


&; 


hi 


■     i 


664  Bod  IVItitc,  the  Gaiiu'  Bird  of  .liucma. 

He  is  a  polygamous,  |)iij,'nacioiis,  selfish  litth;  Aral),  and  lacks  en- 
tirely that  gallant  bearinj^  and  affectionate  nature  which  are  marked 
characteristics  of  the  American  bird.  A  wretched  husband,  he 
abandons  his  wives  and  younj;  to  their  fate  at  the  waning;  of  the 
honeymoon  ;  and  his  selfish  manners  are  inherited  l)y  his  chicks, 
who  "  are  hardly  full  ^rown  when  they  separate,  or,  if  kept  tojjether, 
fijjfht  ()bslinatt;ly,  and  their  (juarrels  are  terminated  only  by  their 
mutual  destruction."  It  belies  both  the  appearance  and  character 
of  liob  White  to  call  him  after  such  a  mean-lookinj^,  ilisreputable 
bird  as  the  European  (|uail. 

The  common  luiropean  j^ray  partriiljfe  differs  somewhat  in  form 
from  our  bird,  which  in  this  |)articular  resembles  more  closely  the 
red-ley;}f(ul  partridge  of  luirope ;  but  what  is  said  of  the  habits  of 
Hob  While  applies  etjually  well  to  the  Huropean  partridge.  The 
latter  weighs  twice  as  much  as  Mob  White,  but  he  has  not  Mob's 
sturdy,  rapid,  and  often  long-continued  (light.  Like  our  binl,  his 
flesh  is  white ;  he  forms  into  coveys ;  is  nn)nogamous,  and  keeps 
with  his  wife  and  brood  till  the  following  spring.  1  le  is  not  migra- 
tory or  nocturnal  in  his  habits.  His  wings  are  similar  in  form  to 
those  of  our  bird,  having  the  third  (luill-fi-ather  the  longest,  which  is 
a  characteristic  of  the  partridges,  and  distinguishes  them  from  the 
<|uails.  which  have  the  first  quill-feather  the  |{)ngest. 

It  is  true  that  Mol)  White  is  sometimes  partl\  migratory  in  his 
habits.  It  is  said  that  he  has  "a  running  season"  in  October,  when, 
joining  a  pack,  he  leaves  the  region  of  his  birth  and  travels  on  foot 
in  a  southerly  and  easti-rly  tlirection  till  he  reaches  the  borders  of 
streams  and  bays,  where  he  may  remain  till  November,  when  he 
returns  to  his  former  haunts.  During  his  travels  it  would  be  useless 
to  hunt  him,  for  he  then  runs  with  great  ra|)idity  before  the  dog,  and 
will  not  take  wing. 

The  European  partridge  and  Bob  White  differ  in  their  call-notes 
and  in  their  longevity  Daniel,  in  his  superb  "Rural  Sports."  Lon- 
don. 1812.  states:  "It  is  said,  the  partridge,  if  unmolested.  lives 
from  fifteen  to  seventeen  years ;  others  dispute  this  computation,  and 
maintain  that  they  live  seven  years,  and  give  over  laying  in  the 
si.xth,  and  are  in  full  vigor  when  two  years  old."  Dr.  I^lisha  T. 
Lewis,  in  his  ".American  .Sportsman."  Philadelphia,  185;,  says  that 
the  average  duration  of  Mob  White's  life  is  three  to  five  yeurs  ;  but 


in- 
ked 
he 
the 
cks, 
her, 
luir 
cter 
ul)le 


W-^'^S 


.~t' 


'X*^^,,,-,, 


IlKHl'l-AN     liK.W      l'.\klkll)i;i  S     (I'lKlUX     I  IM  Rl  A),     .MALI       \M>     II  MAI. 


liKAWS    hV     I  XMI  ^    I      III.  \m>. 


ml 


fr    1 


-i 


'    A 


^r^ 


III 


f 


Hi 


Hob  it  '/lite,  the  I, tunc  liird  of  ,  liHchtn.  667 


'  llllh     VMII'll 


neither  of  llicsc  ;iiith(irs  stales  how  these  faits  werr  as(  erl.iiii<  <l. 
Our  (listiiij^iiished  ornitlioloj^Mst,  I  )r.  (Dues,  (lasses  I'.ol.  \\  hil<: 
amon^  tlie   partridges,  and   sa\s: 

"(»ur  [i.irtridncs  \\\/..  Ifoli  White,  tin-  Mniilit.nii,  \';illcy,  .ill'l  M.ism'Ii.i  i|ii,iiIs,  rti.j 
rn;iy  lir  (lisiiiij.'iii-.liri|  .iriionj;  ,\niiri';in  <iii//iii«  \i\  \]\i-  (on -^^oinj^  <  li.ir.K  icrs,  Iml  iiol 
from  those  of  the  l»hl  Worl'l;  ;iii'i  it  is  hi^;hiy  iiii|)rol>,il)|c-  that,  ms  ,i  ;,'roii|),  they  ,iri; 
scparaldc  from  ,ill  the  (oruii  of  llie  latter  \i)  .my  'lei  nh-d  jiec  iiliarities.  I  (mil  ih.il  the 
jiriti' i|ial  siip|(Oseil  i  harai  icr.  iiaiiicly.  a  toolhitiy  ol  the  iitxler  maiidilile,  is  \er\  t.imtlv 
lii'liiaturj  in  s'liiie  lorm^,  ami  etilirely  waiitm;^  in  otlnr^.  I'eti(|iii({  tinal  isiie.  howewr. 
it  is  cxiieilietit  to  rec  o;;ni/e  til"  ;iroii|i,  -,o  -.Iri' tly  Imnleil  ^^co^jraphic  allv.  il  not  oiImt- 
wise,  •  •  *  III  haliils,  they  ayree  more  or  li.'ss  c  r/m|ilele|y  with  the  well  kno.'.ti  I'.oli 
S\'hite  •  hcail  '  oiiipletcly  fiMtlnreil,  and  ii^nilly  <  re^teil.  the  i  re^t  lre<|ii' ntly  .i,Niimin^ 
a  remarkalili-  shape;  nas  il  fo-se  not  tilled  with  feathers,  the  nosiriU  lovered  vMth  a 
naked  s(,;ile.  l.irsi  and  toes  nikeil,  the  latter  s(ariel\  or  not  Irin^'ed." 


If,  however,  many  of  oitr  friends  sliould  prTsisi  —  as  ih'-y  certainly 
will  —  in  (  allin;,f  l»ol)  White  a  (|iiail.  then  th'-y  should  (.ill  a  hrood  of 
lhes«!  Iiirds  a  hiX'y  ;  whiles/  rvrvr  should  desi;^fnale  a  hrood,  if  they 
call  him  a  \'irj.(inia  |iartri(l)(e.  I  he  |)luina^M-  differs  so  huk  h  with 
latitude    that   souk;    naturalists    have    made   out    three    species — the 


668  Hob  U'liitv,  the  (,amv  Hinf  of  ^hmrica. 


W  li  I 


will  I  <     IK  II    Will  II.      (I  i«iM    nil 


I  IciN    111     Ml  KKIi    M.    MA\I:K   ) 


()r/\'x  I 'irj!^  ill  ill  II  IIS,  \.\\v  iK  I'loiiiiniiiis,  and  the  ^^.  '/\\\tiniis.  'I'hc 
male  of  tlu:  I'loritiaiiiis  is  al)()ul  llu;  si/.i;  of  tin;  fcmaK;  \  'ir<^iiiianiis. 
Its  l)ill  is  lunj^fcr  and  jet  l)huk  ;  its  colors  ar«;  darkrr  ami  its  black 
markini^s  an;  In-avifr.  I'lu-  '/\.\iiiiiis  is  of  tin-  size  of  the  Fiori- 
daiiiis ;  the  colors  are  paler,  the  prevailinj^  shaile  l)ein_i;  rather  gray 
than  brown  ;  iijjper  part  much  variej^^Mted  with  tawny.  Sometimes 
IU>b  White  dons  a  coat  which  is  nearly  white.  One  of  these  color- 
less birds  is  shown  in  the  above  en^ravinj^f.  He  was  shot  in  the 
month  of  November,  l)y  Mr.  Charles  Hallock,  near  Merlin,  in 
Worcester  County.  .Marylaml. 

If  after  a  ilay  of  successful  shootini;  over  a  considerable  area,  the 
sportsman  will  count  th*-  numlu-r  of  cock  and  hen  birds  which  have 
fallen  to  his  aim,  he  wilt  find  tht;  former  always  outnumberinji;  the 
latter.     The  e.xact  ratio  I  do  not  know.      I  have  but  once  separatetl 


Hob   li'hiU\  the  (itimc  Hi nl  of  .Interna.  669 


them  ;  then,  in  a  \va<^  of  forty.  I  f«»iinil  twcniy-foiir  cocks  to  sixtt-cn 
hens.  Accorclinj,'  to  tlu'  l*!iiro|H'an  naturalist.  Ray,  tli*-  luiropi-an 
partriili^L*  hatclu-s  >)nf-tlur(l  more  males  tlian  females. 

The  avera^'e  weij^ht  of  Hoi)  White  varies  consiilcraltly  with  the 
nature  of  his  feeilinj.;-j.;;rounil.  the  weather  precedinjf  the  tinu-  when 
he  is  shot,  anil  the  aj^je  of  the  hird.  I'rohahly  six  ami  three-<|uarter 
ounces  is  a  fair  averaj,'e  weij,'ht.  In  Southern  Maryland.  I  hav«'  shot 
a  few  cock-hirds  which  weij^hed  eij^jht  (tunces  and  one-<|uarter.  and 
one  even  as  hij^di  in  weij^ht  as  ei^dit  ounces  and  three-(|uarters. 
I'ifty  hirtis  shot  in  the  middle  of  North  Carolina,  last  December, 
averaj.jed  seven  ounces.  Ihose  hirtis  were  cocks  and  hens,  old  and 
younj^,  just  as  they  came  to  hajj;  in  the  field.  Mr.  I'rank  Schley 
says:  "  I  havtr  often  killed  a  ha).,'  of  hirils  alonj;  the  Monocacy  anil 
Potomac  bottoms  in  Maryland,  in  the  month  of  December,  that 
would  average  eij^ht  ounces."  Dr.  Lewis,  in  his  ".\merican  Sports- 
man." j.fives  a  record  often  braces  of  birds  shot  in  the  neij^diborhood 
of  .Mount  Holly,  New  Jersey,  that  averaged  eij.fht  ounces. 

While  the  woodcock  and  Wilson's  snipe  are  fated  to  disappear  as 
civilization  robs  them  of  their  restricted  feedinj.j-<4n)unds.  Hob  White-, 
if  protected  by  the  enforcement  of  judicious  j.fame  laws,  will  thrive  in 
the  midst  of  cultivated  lands,  and  will  continue  to  test  the  jfamecraft 
and  marksmanship  of  future  generations.  He  is  destined  to  remain 
the  j^ame  bird  of  America,  and  he  is  worthy  of  it:  for  there  is  none 
more  impetuous  in  his  flii.jht.  none  that  has  such  extended  ranj^e  in 
his  feedinj.f-jfrounds  and  coverts,  none  that  demands  of  the  j.(unner 
more  knowledjre  of  his  habits  in  order  to  find  him.  and  none  that 
tests  so  well  the  traininj.j  of  a  dojf  and  the  e\c  and  nerve  of  the 
sportsman.  Wi-  should  be  thankful  that  he.  with  the  black  bass,  will 
be  spared  in  the  relentless  action  of  that  artificial  selection  which  is 
slowly  but  surely  takiiijj^  from  us  the  woodcock,  the  snipe,  the  j^rouse, 
and  the  wild  trout. 

Unlike  the  j^rouse  and  thi-  European  (piail.  our  little  .\merican 
is  a  faithful  husband  and  devoted  father.  To  (ind  Hob  in  Mormon 
practices  is  rare  Should  he.  however,  discover  that  his  ^.jallant 
bearinif  and  spruce  attire  ha\e  made  him  doubly  beloveil.  he  will 
show  impartial  devotion  to  his  two  spouses.  I'Vom  a  fence-rail 
overhead,  with  his  two  wives  on  their  nests,  not  two  feet 
apart,  he  will    gladden  both  their  little  hearts  with  i;is  love-sonj.^. 


i|  t 


t    I 

! 

I 


670 


Bob  llliitc,  the  Game  Bini  of  Amcnca. 


•\'\ 


I     s 


But  this  jfallar.i  ami  affectionate  hircl  is  naturally  a  nionojramist. 
He  selects  his  mate  ami  makes  his  courtship  in  the  spring,  soon 
after  the  snow  ami  frost  have  <,r()ni:,  when  the  willows  have  turned 
yellow,  while  the  froi^s  are  pipin^^  in  the  marsh  ami  the  Wilson's 
snipe  is  drumming;  above  the  meadows.  If  the  wintry  storm  should 
con^e  back,  the  mates  will  re-assemble  in  a  covey,  and  keep  each 
other  warm  o'  nijj^hls,  and  huddle  on  the  sunny  slopes  durins^  the  day. 
In  the  month  of  May  they  build  their  simple  nest,  formed  of 
a  slight  de|)ression  in  the;  i^round.  lined  with  dried  leaves  and  soft 
jfrasses.  This  mst  may  be  found  imder  a  tussock  of  i^rass.  beneath 
a  small  bush,  in  the  brier-i,frown  corner  of  a  worm-fence,  at  the  foot 
ol  an  old  stump,  alongside  a  lojr,  or  often  in  the  open  fields  of  wheat 
or  clover.  Thi-  nest  is  sometimes  closed  above  with  stubbh;  minified 
with  the  y^rass  tussock  or  briers,  and  provided  with  a  side  entrance  ; 
init  th(;  nest  is  as  often  found  open  abo\e  as  closed. 

in  this  nest  the  hen-bird  lays  from  one  dozen  to  two  dozen  e<,^gs 
of  a  pure,  brilliant  white.  While  the  hen  is  layinjr,  ami  durini^  her 
time  of  nestins;',  the  cock  is  the  hapjjiest  of  husbands.  I'illed  with 
joy  ami  pride,  he  sits  on  the  low  bou^h  of  a  neighborinj^  tree,  or 
perchc;s  on  the  fence-rail  <iuit«;  near  his  spouse,  whom  he  never 
wearies  of    telling-  that  he  is  "Hob  White — ){)ur  Hob  White,"  in 

such  a  brilliant,  hap])y  voici;  that  the  farmer 
stops  his  work  and  the  children  leave  their 
pla)  to  listen  to  him,  and  they  are  happier 
for  havintj  heard  him. 

In  from  three  to  four  weeks  the  little 
downy  yoiini;'  leave  the  e<js4',  and  even  with 
pieces  of  (\>r,n'-slu'll  \et  stickin_(,r  on  their  backs 
they  go  off  with  their  parents  to  be  taui^ht  to 
search  for  food.  They  feei.l  on  the  seeds  of 
various  ij^rasses,  weeds,  ami  cereals,  and  on 
berries;  ami  thev  n-turii  a  huiulred-fold  the  l)ounl\' of  their  landlord, 
by  destro)  iuL;  for  his  beni^tit  not  onl)-  countless  numlx-rs  of  destructive; 
insects,  but  (|uantities  of  weed-seed,  one  to  two  frills  of  which  the 
adult  birds  can  stow  away  in  their  litlh;  crops  durinji,^  a  da\'s  feeding. 
If  rain  should  come  on,  or  the  coUl  wind  blow,  the  mother  calls 
her  younglings  umler  lur  wings,  wheri;  they  nestle  safe  from  the 
chilling  storm.    When  night  comes  on.  slu;  and  iu;r  spouse;  take  their 


uoii  wiiiiK  I  nc  (ri  I.I.  sizi.). 

(IKciM       IHK      (  <ll.l,l;(   lIllN 
(i|-      \.    II.    11  Ml. I. V.I 


Bob  IVliitc,  the  Game  Bird  of  ^linenea.  67 1 


^i^ 


^  <:_ 


uCiui^^^- 


CAl.li  iiKNIA   VAI.I.KY   I'AKTKIDGK   <1R  gUAII..      (l  cu'lKiHTVX   (  Al  IIOKNK  I  S.) 

little  ones  to  souk;  place  removed  from  the  thicket,  where  prowl  the 
fox  and  the  weasel.  Soon  afti'r  heiny  hatched,  the  yonn^',  in  nin- 
nin_>r,  assist  thiMiisiilves  with  their  tiny  wini^s,  and  whc;n  two  weeks 
old  they  take  wini;-  with  a  flutter  thai  is  very  anuisinj^  to  those 
familiar  with  tlu:  startling'  whir  of  liie  okl  hirils.  When  too  laryc  to 
leather  under  the  mother,  tlu'\-  take  their  flight  at  nii^ht-fall  from  the 
stui)ble  or  i^rain-field  where  they  have  been  feetlin<4,  antl  thus,  break- 
ing the  scent,  drop  down  in  a  compact  cloud  into  some  open  space- 
under  a  bush  or  tussock,  and  cozil\-  hucldlinjf  up  to  one  another,  form 
a  little  circle  with  their  heads  outward.  Thus  nestled,  they  see  on 
all  sides,  and  can  sprinL,^  at  a  moment  from  their  bed  to  evade  any 
foe  that  may  steal  on  them  in  the  niL,dit  or  at  the  earlv  dawn.     If  the 


i 
I 


m 

''II 
■1  |!| 

!      il 

672  Bob   IVhitc,  the  Came  Bird  of  A  mem  a. 


1     ir 


1  '■ 


:1a. 


j^roiind  he  covered  witli  snow  or  hoar  frost,  or  the  weather  he  wet 
or  hhisterinjjj,  they  may  remain  huddled  toj^ether  all  day,  or  may  not 
venture  to  feeil  till  late  in  the  forenoon.  Hut  if  they  are  trreeteil 
with  the  sunrise  and  ^ooil  weather,  they  cheep  a  jj^ootl- morning  to 
one  another  in  soft,  cheerful  voices,  and  ^o  at  onci;  to  their  feeilinj^- 
yrounds,  where  they  resale  themselves  on  the  wheat  of  the  stuhhles, 
tht;  huck wheat,  the  seeds  of  ijrasses,  and  the  ra.»;-weed,  and  on  the 
herries  of  the  haw,  the  j^um,  and  the  chicken-Ljrape.  Ahoul  ten  or 
eleven  o'clock  they  retire  to  the  sunny  side  of  a  covert,  and  they  do 
not  venture  forth  again  till  three  or  four  in  the  afternoon,  when  the) 
again  seek  tht.'ir  food  till  sundown  ami  l)ed-time. 

in  Octoher  and  Novemher,  the  sportsman  often  "  springs  "  coveys 
containing  hirds  too  small  to  he  shot;  sometimes  half  the  covey  will 
he  in  this  condition,  thi:  other  half  full-grown  hirds.  ihis  fact  may 
he  accounted  for  thus:  The  eggs  and  the  young  are  often  liestroyed 
hy  the  wet  and  cold  of  the  early  summer,  or  hy  heasts  anil  hirds  of 
prey.  If  this  calamity  should  overtake  them,  the  hen  again  goes  to 
laying,  and  this  second  hrood  is  retarded  hy  the  time  lost  hetween 
the  first  and  second  nestings.  When  hirds  of  two  sizes  art-  founil  in 
the  saiiK"  covey,  it  seems  to  show  that  the  parents  have  raised  two 
hroods ;  and  this,  I  think,  happens  oftener  to  the  south  than  to  the 
north  of  the  James  River, — the  summer  of  our  miildle  and  northern 
States  heing  generally  too  short  for  the  raising  of  two  hrooils. 
Haird  says:  "They  have  two  hroods  in  a  season,  the;  second  in 
.August";  while  Auduhon  states  that  "  in  Tt^xas,  the  IHoridas.  ami 
as  far  eastward  as  the  neighhorhood  of  Charleston,  in  .South  Carolina, 
it  hreeds  twice  in  the  year,  first  in  May,  ami  again  in  Septemher." 

The  cock-hird  shari's  with  the  hen  the  duties  and  restraints  of 
incuhation.  If  his  spouse  should  ilesire  another  hrood,  he  will  take 
charge  of  the  half-grown  young  while  she  makes  her  second  nest- 
ing. When  the  second  hrood  appears,  it  runs  with  the  first,  antl 
they  form  together  one  happy  family,  and  remain  with  their  parents 
till  the  following  s|)ring,  in  the  pairing  season,  when  the  old  family 
ties  are  severed. 

The  devotion  of  the  parents  to  their  unfledged  young,  and  the 
real  affection  which  the  memhers  of  a  family  have  for  one  another 
up  to  the  time  of  their  separation  in  the  spring,  have  heen  so  touch - 
ingly  descrihed  hy  two  of  the  most  gifted  of  our  writers  on  field 


Bob   IP'liitc,  the  Game  Bird  of  America.  673 

sports,  that  I  must  here  quote  them  ;  especially  as  the  writings  of  W. 
P.  Hawes  ("J.  Cypress,  Jr.")  are  now  rarely  met  with.      He  says: 

"If  you  would  see  the  i)urcst,  the  sinccrest,  the  most  affecting  piety  of  a  jiarent's 
love,  startle  a  family  of  young  ([uails  and  watch  the  conduct  of  the  mother.  She  will 
not  leave  you.  No,  not  she.  Hut  she  will  fall  at  your  feet,  uttering  a  noise  which  none 
hut  a  distressed  mother  can  make,  and  she  will  run,  and  flutter,  and  seem  to  try  to  he 
caught,  and  cheat  your  outstretched  hand,  and  affect  to  he  wing-hroken  and  wounded, 
and  yet  have  just  strength  to  tumhle  along,  until  she  has  drawn  you,  fatigued,  a  safe 
distance  from  her  threatened  children  and  the  hopes  of  her  young  heart ;  and  then 
she  will  m(junt,  wliirring  with  glad  strength,  and  away  through  the  maze  of  trees  you 
had  not  seen  before,  like  a  dose-shot  bullet,  fly  to  her  skulking  infants.  Listen,  now! 
Do  you  hear  those  three  half-])laintive  notes,  (|uickly  and  clearly  j)oured  out  ?  She  is 
calling  the  boys  and  girls  together.  She  sings  not  now  '  Bob  White!'  nor  '.Ah!  Hob 
White!'  That  is  her  husband's  love-call,  or  his  trumpet-blast  of  detiance.  Hut  she 
calls  sweetly  and  softly  for  her  lost  children.  Hear  them  '  Peej)!  peep!  peep!'  at  the 
welcome  voice  of  their  mother's  love !  They  are  coming  together.  Soon  the  whole 
family  will  meet  again.  It  is  a  foul  sin  to  disturb  them;  but  retread  your  devious  way, 
and  let  her  hear  your  coming  footsteps  breaking  down  the  briers  as  you  renew  the  dan- 
ger. She  is  quiet.  Not  a  word  is  passed  between  the  fearful  fugitives.  Now,  if  you 
have  the  heart  to  do  it.  lie  low,  keep  still,  and  imitate  the  call  of  the  hen-cjuail.  Oh, 
mother,  mother!  How  your  heart  would  die  if  you  could  witness  the  deception  !  The 
little  ones  raise  up  their  trembling  heads  and  catch  comfort  and  imagined  safety  from 
the  sound.  'Peej)!  ])ee])!'  They  are  coming  to  you,  straining  their  little  eyes  and 
clustering  togetlier,  and,  answering,  seem  to  say:  "Where  is  she?  Mother!  mother! 
We  are  here!'" 

The  following  is  by  Henry  William  Herbert  ("Frank  F"or- 
rester") : 

"Unlike  the  young  broods  of  the  woodcock,  which  are  mute,  save  the  twitter  with 
which  they  rise,  the  bevies  of  (|uail  ajjpear  to  be  attached  to  each  otiier  by  tender  affec- 
tion. If  dispersed  by  ac(  idental  causes,  either  in  the  pursuit  of  their  food,  or  from  being 
flushed  by  .some  casual  intruder,  so  soon  as  their  first  alarm  has  passed  over,  they  begin 
calling  to  each  other  with  a  small,  jjlaintive  note,  cjuite  different  from  the  amorous  whis- 
tle of  the  male  bird  and  from  their  merry,  day-break  cheejiing,  and  each  one  running 
toward  the  sound,  and  repeating  it  at  intervals,  they  soon  collect  themselves  together 
into  one  hajjpy  little  family. 

"  If,  however,  the  rutliless  sportsman  has  been  among  them  with  his  well-trained 
setter  and  unerring  gun,  so  that  deatii  has  sorely  thinned  their  numbers,  they  will  pro- 
tract their  little  call  for  their  lost  comrades  even  to  night-fall;  and  in  such  cases I 

know  not  if  it  be  fancy  on  my  part — there  has  often  seemed  to  me  to  be  an  unusual 
degree  of  melancholy  in  their  wailing  whistle. 

"  Once  this  struck  me  es|)ecially.  I  had  found  a  small  bevy  of  thirteen  birds  in  an 
orchard,  dose  to  the  house  in  which  I  was  passing  a  portion  of  the  autumn,  and  in  a 
very  few  minutes  killed  twelve  of  them,  for  they  lay  hard  in  the  tedded  clover,  and  it 

43 


If 


;J* 


I! 


^^ 


if. 


MMiAAUbrfahM 


674 


Bob  IVIiitv,  the  Came  Bini  of  Amcrka. 


,»; 


i 

t  . 

11 

(     . 
)     ' 

1 

■ 

was  perfectly  oi)en  shooting.  I'he  thirteenth  and  last  bird,  rising  with  two  others 
which  I  killed  right  and  left,  Hew  but  a  short  distance  and  dropped  among  some 
sumacs  in  the  corner  of  a  rail  fence.  I  could  have  shot  him  certainly  enough,  but 
some  undefined  feeling  induced  me  to  call  my  dog  to  heel,  and  spare  his  little  life  ;  yet 
afterward  I  almost  regretted  what  I  certainly  intended  at  the  time  for  mercy.  I'or  day 
after  day,  so  long  as  I  remained  in  the  country,  I  heard  his  sad  call  from  morn  till  dewy 
eve,  crying  for  his  departed  friends,  and  full,  api»arently,  of  memory,  which  is,  alas!  but 
too  often  another  name  for  sorrow. 

"  It  is  a  singular  proof  how  strong  is  tlie  passion  for  the  chase  and  the  love  of  i)ur- 
suit  implanted  liy  nature  in  the  heart  of  man,  that  however  nun  h,  when  not  influenced 
by  the  direct  heat  of  sport,  we  deprecate  the  killing  of  these  little  birds  and  pity  the 
individual  sufferers,  the  moment  the  dog  points  and  the  bevy  springs,  or  the  proi)itious 
morning  promises  good  sport,  all  the  compunction  is  forgotten  in  the  eagerness  and 
emulation  whicii  are  natural  to  our  race." 

Bol)  White;  schools  the  \ving-.4iot  as  scvcri-ly  as  the  wily  trout 
tries  the  ano;ier.  Like  the  trout,  he  lias  hai)its  which  we  must  be 
acquainted  with  in  order  to  find  him,  and  wlien  found  we  ourselves 
may  be  found  —  wantint;.  Am  I  not  a  convicted  boaster?  Was  it 
not  only  yesterday  when  1  to  myself  said  proudly  "  I'm  a  crack- 
shot  "? 

"  l)ee])ly  hast  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 
.And  shall   not  soon  dep.irt." 

It  requires  much  e.vperience  to  divine  the  whereabouts  of  Hob 
White.  If  the  weather  be  fair,  start  early,  for  the  birds  will  be  on 
their  feeding^-grounds  at  sunrise,  and  will  be  foun!  in  the  fields  of 
stubble,  or  in  the  midst  of  the  rag-weed,  and  along  the  brier-fringed 
ditches ;  and  do  not  forget  the  field  of  buckwheat,  for  they  are 
especially  fond  of  it.  About  ten  or  eleven  they  will  cease  feeding, 
and  will  .seek  the  sunny  side  of  some  covert  near  a  stream,  where 
they  will  (juench  their  thirst  after  their  morning  meal.  Here  they 
will  dust  and  preen  themselves,  and  take  their  noonday  siesta.  The 
birds  will  generally  remain  here  till  three  or  four  hours  after  mid- 
day, and,  closely  huddled  as  they  art;,  they  are  difficult  for  the  dog 
to  find. 

The  sportsman,  if  wise,  will  now  follow  the  e.xample  of  the  birds, 
and  seeking  the  quiet  of  some  .sheltered  sunny  nook,  will  take  his 
lunch  and  rest  himself  and  his  dogs.  How  well  we  remember  that 
pleasant  spring-side,  with  the  dogs  stretched  before  us  to  catch  the 
warm  rays  of  the  sun.  their  eyes  furtively  glancing  at  us,  waiting  for 


Bob  lyiiite,  the  Game  Hini  of  AmcKica.  675 


BnB    WIIITK    AND    Ki;K'>l'K\N    yUAII,. 


their  share  of  the-  lunch ;  the  fra.Lfrant  citrar.  with  pleasant  jokes  at 
our  hail  shots  and  untimely  tumble,  the  <,^ener<nis  admiration  of  our 
companions'  skill,  anil  talk  about  the  wonderful  workiui^  of  the  dojrs. 
"  What  a  picture  !  When  that  iIoil,-^  suddenly  stopped  at  the  end  of 
his  bound  over  that  hillock,  and  with  a  hare  in  his  mouth  backed  the 
Laverack  bitch  drawint,'^  on  to  a  cove)  which  she  found  just  as  he 
was  retrieving  !"  "  Yes  !  and  don't  you  remember,  on  t'other  side  of 
those  woods,  when  she  froze  to  the  top  of  that  sione  fence-  when,  in 
the  act  of  leapini;   it,  she  winded  a  covey  not  twenty  feet  off  on  the 


o 


ther 


side?"*  •' N'es,  jrood  doj^s  !  you  have  deserved  wi;ll  of  us!" 
"So  here's  a  !.;lass  of  sherry  to  their  long  lives  in  ha|)py  huntinij- 
jrrounds.  and  success  to  the  day!  "  and  we  are  off  on  a  tramp  of  a  half- 
dozen  miles,  which  will  brint,^  to  bay'  another  score  of  birds  and  take  us 
to  the  l)lazin<4  hickor\  and  bountiful  country  dinner  of  our  clici-ry  host. 
If  the  weather  is  very  dry,  do  not  seek  the-  birds  on  the  uplands, 
for  Bob  White,  though  no  hydropathist,  likes  \\\v.  vicinil\-  of  water. 
Hut  if  your  hunt  occurs  after  a  rainy  spell,  140  to  the  upland  stubble- 
fie'ds,  anil  work  your  do^i^s  aloni^'  the  border  of  the  driest  and  sun- 
niest of  the  coverts. 

•  Two  real  incidents  whii  h  happened  under  the  eye  of  llie  :iuth(ir. 


. 


;i 


:  3    ii 


!' 


f':i 


ij  "I 


676  Bob  WhitCy  the  Came  Bini  of  Amcnca. 


\,\ 


MK!>.    UOII    WIIITB    AND    I  AMII 


Hi 


i  m 


If  it  is  windy  and  cold,  the  birds  will  i)t'  founil  in  covert  alonjj;' 
the  sunny  lee  slopes  of  the  valleys,  in  the  tall  rag-weed  and  briers  of 
the  hollows,  and  on  tht;  sunny  borders  of  the  woods  and  heilj^e-rows. 
They  will  not  now  lie  well  to  the  dojf,  ami  when  (lushed  will  g^o  like 
l)ullets  into  the  det^pest  thickets.  Should  you  hope  to  prevent  this 
by  MCttinj;  thein  in  between  you  and  the  do_v;s.  )ou  may  often  be 
mistaken,  for  in  all  likelihood  the)  will  sprint^  over  your  head  like 
sparks  from  under  a  blacksmith's  hammer.  The  shootinjj;  is  now 
difficult,  for  you  will  have  to  turn  rapidly  on  your  heel  as  the  bird 
passes  over  you,  ami  drop  your  aim  just  umicr  him  while  he  is  only 
momentarily  in  sij^ht. 

If  you  had  a  fair  day  yesterday,  Init  after  a  lonj^  spell  of  wet 
weather,  and  you  returned  home  last  niijht  in  a  clear,  cold,  quiet  air, 
you  may  e.xpect  to  see  the  sunshine  of  to-morrow  sparklintj  in  the 
hoar-frost  which  covers  the  (.ground  and  all  the  herbajj^e.  Tarry  at 
home  till  the  sun  has  nearly  melted  the  ice  off  the  meadows,  for  you 


Bob  IV/iifc,  the  Game  Bini  of  ^Inieriia.  6']'] 

will  }f(Jt  nothin^r  but  wet  legs  by  traiiipinj^  the  fields  while  the 
grouiul  is  iced  and  while  the  birds  are  yet  huddled  and  have  not 
spread  their  scent. 

When  the  dojjjs  are  seeking  the  coveys,  let  them  range  widely. 
When  they  .stanil  the  covey,  do  not  exhaust  yourself  with  haste  in 
reaching  them,  but  approach  leisurely  and  (juietly.  When  the  covey 
springs  be  very  (juick,  but  very,  very  steady,  and  do  not  fire  till  you 
are  sure  of  your  aim.  Remember  that  it  is  your  left  arm  and  wrist 
that  direct  your  gun  ;  so  grasp  it  well  forward  on  the  fore-end,  and 
not  near  the  breech,  as  some  do.  You  will  thus  be  able  to  give  your 
gun  that  (juick  and  firm  motion  which  is  indispensable  to  skill  in 
"snap-shooting";  and  all  shooting  at  Mob  White  is  of  that  character. 

If  it  is  your  first  shot  of  the  season,  and  you  are  not  gifted  with 
a  very  steady  nerve,  you  will  do  well  to  charge  your  gun  with  but 
on<;  cartridge,  \^y  doing  so,  it  is  probable  that  a  bird  will  drop  to 
your  first  shot.  If  you  had  had  two  shots,  you  might  have  been  too 
anxious  for  two  birds,  and  thus  have  lost  both,  .\fter  two  or  three 
successes  with  a  single  barrel,  try  "a  double"  over  the  next  point. 

Always  flush  the  birds  yourself  for  a  dog  "hied  on"  to  flush  may 
do  so  of  his  own  accord  when  )ou  are  out  of  gunshot.  At  the 
springing  of  the  covey,  the  dog  must  "down  charge,"  or  "drop  to 
shot,"  and  in  either  case  hold  his  charge  till  ordered  to  "hold  up"  or 
to  "seek  dead."  If  he  "break  shot,"  he  will  often  cause  you  great 
vexation  in  the  loss  of  shots  by  his  flushing  birds  which  did  not 
spring  with  their  fellows,  but  which  now  get  up  in  rapid  succession, 
and  before  you  have  had  time  to  reload.  But  a  good  retriever  has 
his  greatest  pleasure  in  fetching  a  dead  bird,  antl  the  intense  satis- 
faction this  act  gives  to  him  often  causes  him  to  lose  his  head  and 
rush  in  on  the  report  of  the  gun.  The  dropping  to  shot  and  ri!tain- 
ing  charge  is  one  of  the  prime  recjuisites  in  a  dog,  anil  is  as  tlifficult 
to  teach  a  good  retriever  as  it  is  essential  to  the  true  enjoyment  of 
sport. 

If  the  dog  is  unsteady,  and  apt  to  "break  shot,"  do  not  load  if 
you  have  fired  only  one  barrel,  for,  in  so  doing,  other  birds  may  rise 
just  as  you  have  opened  your  gun  or  are  handling  a  cartridge. 

After  the  covey  has  been  scattered,  give  your  dog  but  little  range. 
Keep  your  eje  well  on  him  as  )ou  approach  the  ground  where  you 
or  your  gillie  has  marked  the  birds.  He  ready,  if  he  be  rash  when 
43A 


IP 
1* 


ri 


x'H.'t 


678  B06  U'^hitc,  the  Game  Bird  of  ^Jmenca. 


,*:,,•:♦:#.• 

'^-.V^ 

-^    ^'^^ 

V 

.,?,'.  "f^i^  »-.**" 

sri-.AiiY,  Tiir.KK  f    rii-iiii  ! 


i1 


i-A 


iM 


he  "winds"  the  birds,  to  chide  iiim,  in  a  voice  just  sufficient  to  be 
heard.      S/ccit/y,  ///or  /    To-lio  ! 

.Above  all  thinijs,  ilo  not  j^^et  excited  and  ijain  in  voice  as  you 
lose  in  temiJ(;r.  Take  it  leisurely,  be  quiet  and  cool,  if  you  would 
enjoy  the  sport  and  kill  cleanly.  By  all  means,  train  your  dojj^,  if 
possil)le,  to  hunt  without  shoutinj^  to  him.  A  short,  quick  whistle 
fhould  call  his  attention.  Then  give  him  the  order  he  waits  for  by 
waves  of  the  hand  :  forward  for  "  on  " ;  a  w  ave  to  the  riijht  or  left, 
as  you  ma)'  desire  him  to  quarter ;  while  the  upraiset!  arm,  with  the 
palm  of  your  hand  toward  him,  should  bring  to  "  to-ho."  Or,  two 
short  whistles  may  be  often  better  for  the  same  order,  while  one 
much  prolonged  should  bring  him  to  "  heel."  A  dog  that  with  head 
well  up  winds  his  birds  and  is  stanch  on  a  covey,  that  will  drop  to 
shot  and  retain  his  charge  till  ordered  to  retrieve,  and  will  receive 
and  obey  your  ord(>rs  from  the  whistle  and  the  motions  of  your  arm 
and  hand,  is  a  dog  indeed. 

After  the  covey  has  been  flushed  and  shot  at  and  the  birds  have 
been   well   scattered,   the   real   enjoyment   in   Bob   White    shooting 


I     '; 


■ 


Bob  White,  the  Game  Bird  of  Amvma. 


679 


begins.     One  may  now  have  single  and  double  shots  over  all  kinds 
of  ground  and  at  birds  taking  every  conceivable  direction  of  flight. 
Hut  often,    the  best  of  markers  will  be  baffled   in  finding  the  birds 
whose  flight  he  has  carefully  noted  after  the  springing  of  the  covey. 
The  following  incident  is  typical  of  the  experience  of  all  sportsmen  : 
A  large  covey  was  once  flushed  and  shot  at,  three  birds  falling  to 
our  fire.      My   friend  and   I   watched   the  other  birds  as   they    flew 
across  a  swale,  where  we  sprung  them,  and  we  saw  them   sail  with 
extended  wings  over  a  large  fic;ld  on   the  valli;y  slope,  into  which 
they  dropped  after  a  few  flutters  of  their  wings.     On  our  approach 
to    the  field,   the  dogs    (juartered   it,   i)ut    they  did  not    come    to    a 
stand.      One  dog    flushed  a  bird  on  which  he  came  suddenly,  and 
he  at  once   "  charged."     We  found    the  dogs    useless,   and    calling 
them  to  "  heel,"  we  walked  slowly  into  the  sedge.     When  we  were 
about  in    the  center  of   the  field,   the    birds  began    to  rise  succes- 
sively   and    singly    in    all    directions  —  in    front,    on    our    side,    and 
sometimes  behind  us,  giving  us  delightful  shots.    Similar  experiences 
recurring  so    often  have  made  some    sportsmen   suppose  that    Hob 
White    has  a  vohmtary  power  of  retaining    his  scent,   and  thus  in 
time  of  danger  eludes  the  dogs,      iiut  this  well-known  occurrence 
can    be    explained   otherwise.       Often    wht:n    the    frightened    birds 
alight,  they  do  not  run,  but  instantly  crouch  with  their  wings  closely 
|)ressed    against    their    bodies,    so    as   to    squeeze    tiiemselvcs    into 
the    smallest    compass.      Tliis   act,    no   doubt,    causes   a    diminution 
in  the  emission  of  their  efiluvia.      Hut  if  the  birds  have    run   after 
ali^diting,  the  dogs  will  surely  find  them,  provided  they  do  not  run 
rapidly  and  to  great  distances,  in  which  case  thi'  dogs  are  baffled 
by  the  multiplicity  of  scents  ;  and  especially  will  this  be  so  if  the  dog 
gets  on  the  trail  of  a  bird  which  doubles  like  a  hare  on  its  track. 

This  baffling  of  a  dog  on  ground  containing  a  recently  scattered 
covey  shows  that  time  should  be  allowed  for  the  birds  to  recover  from 
their  confusion  and  begin  to  run  together  before  you  "  hie  on  "  the 
dogs  to  find  them.  If  you  an;  familiar  with  tlie  country,  and  can 
remember  the  lamlmarks,  the  projjer  method  is  to  flusii  two  or  three 
coveys,  and  then  begin  to  hunt  the  scattert;d  birds  of  the  respective 
coveys  in  the  order  in  which  you  flushed   them. 

To  become  a  successfiil  shot  at  Hob  White,  the  sportsman  should 
bear  in  mind  that  Hob,  immediately  aft(;r  he  has  sprung,  flies  with  a 
velocity  which  probably  exceeds  that  of  any  other  bird  ;  and  also  that, 


^1 


Ti 


Sii 


^«-t 


:  ill 


rl 


t    H 


mr 


680 


Bo/)  IV/i/'U;  the  Game  Bird  of  ^hnenca. 


'•EM 


unless  fjiirly  hit,  he  can  carry  off  a  number  of  pellets.  When 
a  covey  sprinj^s,  it  rises  at  a  considerable  an^le  with  the  j^round. 
Hence,  in  shootinj^j  at  a  bird  in  a  flushed  covey,  the  sportsman  of 
unsteady  nerve  and  slu^j^ish  muscles  is  apt  to  undershoot,  the  bird 
risinjr  with  sucli  velocity  that  by  the  time  the  j^amner  has  broujfht 
his  j^un  into  position  the  bird  has  passeil  al)ove  iiis  line  of  si^ht.  As 
a  rule,  I  think  that  about  one  second  ^'eneraily  elaps(;s  between  the 
instant  of  sprinj^jinj,'  of  the  bird  and  the  moment  of  fire.  This  inter- 
val j^nves  the  bird  time  to  ^mw  a  moderately  horizontal  line  of  llij^dit, 
anil  allows  the  sportsman  to  j^et  a  fair  aim. 

In  shootinjf  at  an  incominij  binl,  let  him  be  out  of  sii,du,  and 
just  below  the  rib  of  your  j^un  at  the  moment  of  firinj^f.  At  a  bird 
goinj^  overhead,  wait  till  he  has  passed  well  over  ;  then  shoot  under 
him.  .\t  straij^ditaway  shots,  hoKl  a  little  hii,di,  so  that  you  just  catch 
a  j^flimpse  of  the  bird  over  your  barrels. 

In  shooting  at  cross  shots,  it  should  be  understood  that  the 
velocity  of  an  ounce  of  No.  S  shot  driven  with  three  tlrams  of 
powder  is  near  to  900  feet  per  second,  in  that  second  a  Hob 
White,  if  under  full  headway,  will  go  SS  feel,  if  we  estimate  the 
velocity  of  his  flight  so  low  as  only  a  mile  a  minutt-.  If  he  is 
flying  ilirectly  across  your  line  of  sight  anil  thirty  yards  off,  the  shot 
will  take  one-tenth  of  a  second  to  reach  that  distance,  and  in  one- 
tenth  of  a  second  the  bird  has  gone  over  eight  and  eight-tenths 
feet.  So,  if  we  should  fire  a  snap-shot  directly  at  a  cross-flying 
bird  thirty  yards  distant,  the  center  of  the  cloud  of  shot  woulil  fall 
about  nine  feet  behind  him,  and  he  would  pass  b\'  unscathed.  To 
kill  him  "  clean,"  you  must  hold  nine  feet  ahead  of  him.  To  some 
sportsmen  nine  feet  may  seem  a  great  distance  to  "  hold  ahead " 
on  a  cross-flying  bird  thirty  yards  away,  but  not  to  those  who  have 
noticed  attentively  the  relations  of  the  line  of  their  aim  to  the  posi- 
tion of  the  l)ird  at  the  very  moment  they  hear  the  report  of  their  i^nn. 
Also,  estimations  of  distances  in  the  air  beside  a  small  and  quickly 
moving  object  are  very  unreliable,  and  often  when  the  sportsman 
thinks  he  has  fired  only  one  foot  ahead  of  a  bird  he  has  really 
held  ahead  three  feet.  Let  some  one  suspend  horizontally  in  the 
air  an  unfamiliar  object  that  must  be  distant  from  fence-rails  and 
other  things  whose  dimensions  you  know,  and  then  guess  its  length. 
You  will,  after  a  few  trials,  be  satisfied  that  the  estimation  of  actual 
lengths  at  thirty  yards  is  very  fallacious. 


Bob  ir/iifc,  f/ic  Gnuic  Hini  of  ^hncma.  68 1 

Hoi)  W'liitc  is  a  t()uj,rh  ami  hardy  littlo  iVllow,  anil  tin,'  true 
sportsman,  always  a  liinnan<;  man,  will  rcmcmlx-r  this  anil  L-nilisivor 
to  kill  him  outrij,'hl.  Oftrn  a  hinl  will  fly  two  or  thri!i;  lninilr(!il 
yards,  thouj^di  mortally  wounded.  It  is  thr  duty  of  all  sportsmen 
to  watch  carefully  the  fli^du  of  the  hirds  he  has  shot  at,  and  his 
experience  of  the  nature  of  their  llij^ht  will  tell  him  if  the  hird  has 
been  struck.  If  he  concludes  that  he  has  Ixen,  then  it  is  his 
bounden    duly   to    hrin^^   that    bird    to   baj^^  and   that   rij^hl  (juickly. 

The  extraordinary  vitality  of  this  viijorous  bird  was  once  forcibly 
impressed  on  me.  .\  covey  was  flushed  at  about  one  hundred  yards 
from  the  edj^e  of  a  wood.  <  )nly  a  few  of  the  birds  flew  to  the 
woods.  Oniiof  tliem,  ^foin<;  at  a  tremendous  velocity,  crossed  my 
position  at  a  distance-  of  about  forty  yards.  Iloldin},^  my  j^un  at 
what  I  iud>.;cd  was  the  proper  distance  ahead  of  him,  I  tired. 
This  was  the  only  shot  fired  at  the  birds  makiii,L,r  for  the  wood. 

"Sam,"  said  I  to  our  ne<,M-o  ^dllie,  "  I  think  1  hit  that  binl." 

"  \o,  sah,"  said  Sam;  "1  link  not,  sah.  He's  a-j^wine  to  whah 
he  forjrit  he  lef  suffm,  sah  !  " 

Sam  is  a  j^ood  marker,  and  has  carefully  watched  the  flij.,dit 
of  hundreds  of  birds  shot  at.  Vet  I  could  not  entirely  satisfy 
myself  that  ihi;  bird  was  not  fairly  hit,  thou.ijh  he  kept  straij^ht 
on  in  his  vij,^orous  flii^ht.  A  sprain»;d  foot  prevented  rapid  walk- 
inj;,  and  my  companion  enliM-eil  the  wood,  with  the  doj^^s,  before 
me.  .\s  I  struck  the  edj^e  of  the  woods  I  heard  the  report  of 
his  (,am,  and,  after  proceedinu-  about  one  hundred  yards,  I  heard  a 
second  shot,  and  in  another  instant  a  bird  tumbled  through  the 
air  anil   fell  about  a  dozen  feet  in  advance  of  me.      I   called  out : 

"  I   have  them  both  !" 

••  lioth  what?"  said  he.  "I  only  shot  one  bird,  and  ihi;  t-.'ier 
flew  away  from   \()ur  direction  and   I   missed  him  clean." 

The  i)ird  mv  friend  shot  lay  with  his  head  toward  me  ;  the 
other,  a  larj^^e  cock,  lay  on  his  back  with  his  bill  pointinj^  toward 
the  other  bird,  and  not  more  than  a  foot  from  him.  Both  liirds 
were  warm.  The  larjre  cock  Avas  the  one  1  had  fired  at.  He 
was  struck  fairly  in  the  head  and  chest,  and  \et  he  had  pitched 
into  the  woods  and  jrone  altoircther  nearh  two  hundred  yards 
before  he  succumbed  to  his  death-wounds. 

Rules  for  shootinjr  are  of  value,  and  directions  founded  on 
theory    may   serve    to    inform    the    bej^dnner    why    he    misses,    and 


L« 


Si 


ill] 


4  I 

it 


'    i  ; 


ii 


m 


■A 


%^ 


m 


682 


Rob  IVhite,  the  (lame  Hint  of  ^Imcnca. 


tluis  show  him  ihc  way  to  iin|)rovcnu.'nt  in  his  marksmanship; 
but  no  matter  how  well  wi-  may  know  luw  the  shootinj^^  should 
be  (lone,  to  t/o  if  is  an  art  which  lan  lu-  attained  only  l)y  the 
assiduous  cultivation  and  div»lo|»m(nt  olccrtain  peculiar  natural  ijifts. 
A  beginner  who.  out  of  three  shots,  can  l)rinif  one;  Mob  W  hile  to 
ba^;,  need  not  Ik;  discourajfcd  or  ashamed  ;  with  suMkient  practice, 
he  may  one  day  kill  one  out  of  two  birds  fired  at.  The  sportsman 
who  does  not  siilecl  his  shots  (and  no  man  really  a  sportsman  (<tii 
do  that),  but  takes  his  chances  in  die  open  and  in  coxcrt  on  all  birds 
which  offer  a  probability  of  succ(;ss  to  his  skill,  ;;nd  who,  the  season 
*hr(>ujj[h,  brin^fs  to  his  baj,'  three  out  of  five  birds  fired  at,  is  an 
accomplish(;d  s|)ortsman.  If  he  c;in  make  three-  successful  shots  out 
of  four,  he  is  a  phenomc^nal  marksman. 


I 


ii  I  ii 


^■■"Vts^AiJ 


) 
J 

& 

I 

! 

i:im(ii'i.A\    Ki;i)-i  kccikh    I'.M!  ikidli  >..      (<  M  <  amis    KriA.) 

Last  season,  I  shot  with  the  best  win^-shol  I  ever  hunted  with. 
At  my  request,  this  trcntleman,  Mr.  II.  K.  B.  Davis,  of  Philadel- 
phia, has  written  for  me  the  following;  statemiMit.  which,  cominjjf  from 
one  who  has  had  such  unusual  op|)ortuiiities  in  huntin.ij  Hob  White, 
in  North  Carolina,  cannot  fail  to  be  of  interest  to  all  sportsmen : 

"  I  find,  on  referring  to  my  record  containing  the  numl)er  of  coveys  found  and  the 
number  of  birds  killed,  that  the  average  is  but  little  over  three  birds  brought  to  bag 


i    ■•' 


IS^sy 


Bob  ly^liitc,  the  (iitmc  /iinf  of  ^Imcma. 


683 


•I 


Irom  each  tovcy  tlushol.  Wlu-n  it  i!<  rcincmlicroil  (hat  the  uhuuI  numlifr  of  liirdH 
foiiiul  in  .1  ( ovc)  niiih  Irciin  tin  to  ciglitt'cn,  it  uill  ^ivc  some  iilc.i  ot'  the  ilillii  iiltii-s  to 
\\\i  ovcrt'oiiic,  and  the  l.ir^c  |iro|iortion  of  liirils  tluit  cm  ape  even  witl)  flood  slmoting, 
a>  the  same  re' onl  shows  that  seveiily-lhree  out  of  every  hundreil  liirdN  shot  at  were 
liroii)!hl  to  l>.i|4.  'I'liis  record,  extenihn^  over  four  \ears  and  niniiin^  ii|i  into  the 
thousands  of  liir<ls  killed,  ^ives  very  relialile  <lala  to  liase  <  ah  uKitioiis  upon. 

"  rile  do^s  I  hunted  with  I  have  every  reason  tc»  lielieve  are  aliove  the  a^er.l^;e  in 
speed,  endurani  e,  and  si ciitinn  powirs  ;  so  there  is  onlv  one  1  oik  liision  in  arrive  at, 
and  tli.it  is  that  these  Itirds  are  exieeilin^ly  dilfit  ult  lioth  to  fiiul  and  to  kill. 

"  There  are  m.iny  opinions  as  to  the  proper  method  of  shooting;  on  the  winn.  Some 
hold  tli.it  '  snap-sliootiiin  '  is  the  onlv  «ay  to  shout  suet  esshilly.  Snapshooting  is 
gener.illy  uiiderstijod  |o(uiisist  in  putting  the  kui)  to  the  shoulder  and  firing  tin-  iiist.int 
it  is  in  position  ;  m.ikin^  the  allovvame  to  the  ri)jht,  left,  under,  or  above,  .is  the  ease 
m.i)  re(|uire,  hel'irf  raisin^,'  the  nun  ;  just  .is  you  point  your  l"'n^;er,  iiistiiK  tively,  to  .my 
olijet  I  without  having  to  sight  aloiin  it.  <  )thers  are  just  as  sure  tiial  no  one  eve  shot 
tietcntly  unless  he  followed  the  hird  with  the  sight  on  the  gun  and  1  overeil  it  before 
firing.  Some,  again,  insist  that  you  mii^t  swing  \our  gun  along  with  the  1  oursf  of  the 
bin!  alter  pulling  the  trigger.  In  im\  cipinion,  every  one  who  h.is  shot  very  mut  h 
ae(|uires  a  style  pe<  iiliar  to  himself',  and  depending  on  his  temperament  and  tlu'  kinds 
of  birds  hr  li.is  had  the  most  pr.u  tii  <■  on. 

"  It  ma\  be  Well  to  give  a  few  hints  as  to  the  neie-sary  allowanee  to  be  niade  in 
taking  aim  at  a  bird  living  so  r.i|)idly  as  Hob  While.  I  he  most  dillii  nil  shot  is  .1  bird 
coming  ilin  1  ll\  low.ird  you,  and  thing  about  twenty  feet  above  the  gtound.  1  h.ive 
been  i|uite  suci  issful  in  this  shot,  by  holding  dire<  lly  al  the  bird  until  he  is  within 
range,  and  then,  jiisi  as  I  toin  h  the  trigger,  I  raise  the  nuu/le  of  tlu'  gun  about  ^i\ 
in<:hes.  I  would  onlv  advise  trying  this  shot  wlure  there  is  more  than  one  bird,  .mil 
you  want  to  usi'  the  second  barrel.  When  there  is  only  one  incoming  bird,  w.iit  until 
he  passes  over  you,  and  then  by  shooting  under  him,  more  or  kss,  accoriling  to  the 
speed  and  elevation  at  which  he  is  Hying,  you  will  be  jiretty  sure  to  kill. 

"  In  cross  shots,  at  thirty  yards  and  over,  hold  above  the  line  of  (light  and  from  six 
to  nine  feel  ahead  of  the  bird.  'I'his  may  seem  entirely  too  mui  h,  but  I  have  frt'i|ueiuly 
shot  liob  White  when  llying  parallel  to  a  rail-fence,  when  I  aimed  the  full  length  of 
the  rail  ahead  of  him,  this  being  nearlv  twelve  feet.  ' 

The  shootino  of  HdI)  White  tU-inanils  such  (|uick  action  in  hand- 
linj.^  the  tfiin,  and  such  lonij  tramps  to  (.liscovcr  his  rctn.-ats,  that  I 
would  advise  holu  ^uns  lor  his  pursuit.  A  pound  more  in  wejoht 
will  be  felt  in  the  afternoon  of  a  lonj,f  day's  hunt,  and  the  ra|)idity 
and  ease  with  which  a  light  and  short  gun  can  he  handled  makes  it 
very  efficient  in  snap  shooting  in  covert.  A  tw(dve-gauge  seven- 
pound  gun,  of  twenty-eight-inch  barrels,  carrying  one  ounce  of  No. 
8  shot  and  three  drams  of  pt)wder,  or  a  sixteen-guage  of  six  pound's 
weight  and  twenty-six-inch  barrels,  charged  with  seven-eighths  of 
an  ounce  of  shot  and  two  and  three-quarter  drains  of  powder,  is  to 


'f 


1 1 


I- , 


i  : 


684 


Boh  iyhih\  the  Game  Bird  of  Amenca. 


:   I 


h 


mj  likinjr  in  this  most  enjoyable  of  field  sports ;  in  which  occupation 
may  next  season  find  you,  my  sportsman  reader,  who,  though  now 
weary  and  city-worn,  will  then  fori^et  your  uncertain  triumphs  and 
petty  vexations,  when, 

"  Full  of  the  cx])erte(l  s|>()rt,  ydiir  licart  l)L';its  high 
As,  with  impatient  stcjis,  you  haste  to  reach 
The  stui)l)les.   where  tlie  siattered  grain  at't'ords 
A  sweet  repast  to  the  yet  heedless  game. 
Near  yonder  hedge-row,  where  high   grass  and  ferns 
The  secret  hollow  sliade,  your  poirters  stand. 
How   beautiful   they  look  1     With  outstretcheil  tails, 
With  heads  immovable  and  eyes  fast  fixed; 
One  fore-leg  raised  an<l  bent,  the  other  firm, 
Advanced  forward,  presses  on  the  ground  I  " 


?>■:■!       • 


tion 
now 
and 


THI-:    AMIiRICAN    WOODCOCK. 


lU-    (;K()R(;k     UIRD    (iKINNKLI,,    I'll.  I). 


THKRI-:  is  a  little  russet-coated  bird,  dear  to  the  heart  of  (n'ery 
sportsinan,  whos*;  name  is  Philoltcla  minor.  He  is  found  in 
Canada  and  in  i'"lorida,  in  Maine  ami  in  Kansas,  hut  the 
hi.i,di,  dry  plains  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  re.i,don  limit  tlie  extension  o( 
his  ran,irc  westward,  for  he  is  a  bird  that  loves  moisture  and  cool, 
dark  thickets. 

Ihe  woodcock  is  not  often  seen,  antl   is  (|uite  contented   to  be 
overlooked.      He   has  no  brilliant  sonjr  to  catch  the  ear,  no  j^raudy 
plumes  to  attract  the  eye,  nor  does  he  i)erform   (graceful  evolutions 
hi,t,rh  in  air  in   the  broad  jrlare  of  day.      He  is  truly  a  mcxlest  fowl, 
and,  except  at  ni^dit,  or  during  the  twilijrht  of  mornint,--  or  eveninL,s 
he  doe.-,  not  willinj,dy  venture  into  situations  where  he  can  be  viewed 
by  the  casual  wanderer  throui^h  field  or  wood.     One  who  desires  to 
make  his  ac([uaintance  must  penetrate  into  the  depths  of  the  most 
tant,ded  swamps  to  find  him  at  home.      liven  here,  durins,'-  the  day, 
he  is  usually  half  asleep.      Not  so  drowsy,  however,  as  to  be  unaware 
of  the  approach  of  an  intruder.     The  soft  rustling  of  the  leaves,  the 
occasional  snapping  of  a  dry  twig,  anil  the  sound  of  the  heavy  foot- 
fall rous(;  him  from  his  doze  or  his  da)-dream.      He   moves  sidewavs 
beneath  tiie  spreading  leaves  of  a  tuft  of  skunk-cabbage  and,  with 
head    turnetl   on    one    side    and    great  ey(;s  sj)read  to  tiieir  widest, 
watches  for  the  approaching  form.      Once  in  a  whihj  something  may 
cause  him  to  take;  the  alarm,  and  dart  away  before  it  is  within  sight; 
but  usually  he  lies  close, — and  when  he  rises,  it  is  near  at  hand.      He 
springs  from  the  ground,   uttering   a   shrill,   twittering  whistle,  and 
twists  about  in  his  upward  flight  to  dodge  the  branches  which  .spread 


I 


;  ■]!: 


o 


'  1 1 

f  ft 

■1- 

m 

IfP  r 


r 


686 


///<•  .  Inicnain   II  'oihiahK'. 


m 


in  a  ncl-woik  aliovc  him,  unlil  lir  lias  lopiicd  (lie  iindcr^rovvtli,  ami 
then  il.irts  oil  in  ,\  siraij^lu  line  lor  lillv  or  ii  liiiiitlntj  yanls,  to 
|>lim)4c  once   more   into   his   hclovcd  rover. 

it)  some  jtarls  of  Ciiiatia  the  woodcock  is  known  as  a  "  lioj^- 
siu'ki-r,"  wliilc  in  (lie  sea  Imard  connli<'s  ol  Virginia  he  is  ;i  "  nij^lil 
partridi^c  "  or  a  "  |icwc«',"  and  ai;ain,  in  |>orlions  ol  North  ("aro- 
Hna.  a  "  ni^ht  peck." 

.\s  »dM»|>arid  will)  iiis  I'.mi(i|>(  mo  mnsin  ol  llie  s;inie  name, 
the  ,\m<  lican  wot>dcock  is  ;)  small  hinl,  weijL;hin}4  onl\  Irom  live 
to  nine  onnces.  lie  is  eleven  or  tw<'lve  inches  in  ieni;lh,  and  of 
this  the  hill  occnpies  Ironi  two  .md  one  hall  to  thrt-e  inches.  The 
plnma^;*'  iu-low  is  rich  rnsset  hrown.  paling,  on  the  n|>|K'r  hreast. 
siiK's  ol  tlu>  nt'ck,  and  loreln-ad,  to  ashen  \^y\\\.  The  crown  i.s 
Mack  with  two  or  three  cross  lii\es  ol  tawn\,  and  the  haik  is  cnri- 
onslv  mottled  with  tawn\,  ash  .^ray  .md  hkick,  the  latt<'r  prechnn- 
inalini^.  Ihi-  tail  le.uhers  are  Mack,  harred  with  lawny,  their  tips 
smoky  54 rav  on  tlu*  n|)per  side  and  snow  whiu-  Ixneath.  The  lej;s 
•tiul  leet  are  pale  llesh-color.  the  Mil  dark  horn  color  at  the  lip,  l>e- 
oomini;  paler  at  the  l)ase,  ami  the  larp-,  solt,  hnmid  eyes  are  hrown. 

rile  ofoup  ol  hirds  to  whii  li  llu-  woodcock  and  his  near  rela- 
tive, the  so-called  "  I'.nLjIish"  snipe  heloni;,  have  a  nnmher  olCnrioiis 
anatomical  leatiires,  which  have  a  direct  relation  to  tlnir  mode  of 
lite.  In  most  yA  the  species  the  e\c  is  very  l.iri;*-.  and  placed  liij^li 
up  and  i.ir  hack  on  tin-  head,  and  the  exiern.d  openini;  ol  the  ear  is 
direcllv  hene.uh,  insteatl  ol  behind  it;  the  hr.iin  is  tilled  up.  so  to 
speak,  and  luMice  its  base  looks  lorward,  inslead  ol"  downward,  as  is 
usually  tin-  c.isi-  with  hirds.  The  hill  is  soil  and  swollen  at  the  lip, 
and  is  ahundaiulv  supplied  with  nerves,  thus  hecominjr  .i  very  delicate 
orqan  ot  touch.  The  hirds  are  nocturnal  or  crepuscul.ir  in  hahit, 
and  secure  tluMr  looil  hy  prohinj^  and  leeline  for  it  in  the  soil  t;r()und. 
Hut  lhe\  <\o  not  .dwavs,  even  if  their  brains  are  one  (juarter  turnc^d 
round,  fall  ,in  eas\   pre\   to  their  human  enemies. 

I'he  woodcock  is  almost  the  lirst  ol  our  migrants  to  return  in 
the  spriiiv;,  and  soon  after  Ids  arrival,  wliicii  is  nsu.ill\-  in  March, 
he  makes  his  presence  known  to  those  who  understand  where  .and 
when  to  listen  tor  him,  by  tlie  curious  nioht  .soiiy;  with  which  he 
wooes  his  mate.  Ow  warm,  moonlij^ht  eveniiij^s  he  takes  his  Hijrjit 
hio;h  in  air,  ami  when  far  above  the  earth  utters  at  fre(|uent  intervals 


\\ 


' 


hit, 
ind. 
rncci 

n  in 
ircli, 

and 
In- 

i,i,dit 
rvals 


WddllCOCK     AND    V(h;n(;. 

(I.KAWN      MV      lAMIS     ..     M,    M<...     A  m .  H     MMKNS     MOIN,....     hV      W       I       MOHSA-.AV.) 


it 


•    ; 


\l 


I' 


t 


i 


'ill 


The  American   l^Foodcock. 


689 


a  sinjrie  note,  somewhat  like  the  ordinary  call  of  the  nij^ht-hawk. 
This  he  continues  for  some  time,  and  then  suddenly  pitches  down- 
ward from  his  heij^ht,  and  drops  into  cover.  Here  the  female  is 
wailinj^r  for  him,  and  about  her  he  struts,  with  head  thrown  back,  winj^'s 
traihnjf,  and  tail  spread, — a  parody  on  the  turkey-cock  of  the  farm- 
yard. The  nest  is  a  rude  structure  of  dead  leaves  and  j^rass,  and 
is  usually  placed  under  a  fence,  or  i)y  a  loj^  in  some  thick  swamp, 
or  perhaps  on  a  tussock  or  bit  of  hij^h  ground  in  some  alder  run. 
The  eggs  are  generally  four  in  number,  and  are  of  a  dull  cream  color 
marked  with  large  spots  of  bright  brown.  As  soon  as  the  young 
emerge  from  the  egg,  they  leave  the  nest  and  follow  the  mother. 
Thenceforward  their  development  is  rapid,  and  young  birds  have 
been  found  well  able  to  fly  by  April  10.  Two  broods  are  usually 
reared  in  the  Middle  States.  A  curious  habit  of  the  woodcock, 
which,  though  well  attested,  is  as  yet  but  little  understood,  is  its 
practice  of  carrying  its  young  from  jilace  to  place,  apparently  to 
avoid  danger.  Exactly  how  the  mother  bird  does  this  is,  owing  to 
imperfect  observation,  as  yet  a  question,  but  the  weight  of  eviiience 
goes  to  show  that  she  holds  it  clasped  between  her  thiglis,  as  a 
rider  does  his  horse,  and  does  not  carry  it  in  her  weak  and  slender 
claws.  .She  will  sometimes  thus  transport  her  yoimg  ibr  a  hundred 
yards  or  more,  and  if  pursued  will  even  make  a  second  flight  with  it. 

Hy  the  last  of  July  in  favorable  seasons  the  young  of  the  second 
hatching  are  quite  fit  to  look  out  for  themselves,  and  early  in  August 
the  woodcock  disappear ;  that  is  to  say,  can  no  longer  be  found  by 
those  who  search  for  them.  In  Septeml)er  they  collect  once  mort;  in 
their  accustomed  haunts,  and  they  are  fat,  in  good  plumage,  and  fit 
for  the  gun. 

Formerly  it  was  legal  all  over  the  country  to  kill  this  species 
during  the  month  of  July,  at  which  time  many  of  the  joung  were 
barely  able  to  fly,  and  when,  after  a  late  spring,  some  of  the  mother 
birds  were  still  brooding  the  eggs  of  their  second  hatching,  'i'his 
practice,  although  often  shown  to  be  most  pernicious,  is  still  per- 
mitted in  some  .States,  but  is  universally  condemned  by  the  better 
class  of  sportsmen. 

The  coming  together  in  September  of  the  birds  which  have  been 
mysteriously  hidden   away,   no  one  knows  where,    is  often  loosely 
spoken  of  as  "the  first  flight,"  or,  in  other  words,  is  regarded  as  the 
44 


I; 


'fit 


I  i  : 


690 


The  .'Inicnctin   IVoodcock. 


h  k 


%s :. 


(    ' 


bcj^ir.niiij;  ol  the  southward  inij^iation.  It  is,  howi-vrr,  lunhinj^r  more 
than  a  colU'ctinjr  in  favorite  I'ootl  iocaUtics  ol"  tin-  "home  l)ircls" — 
tliosr  which  have  spent  the  summer,  or  heen  reared,  in  the  neij^hiior- 
liood. 

The  lirst  true  migratory  movement  of  the  woodeoek  nsuall)  Col- 
lows  a  sharp  frost  early  in  October.  The  birds  are  not  >;rej;arioiis, 
ami  for  the  most  part  move  sin.i;ly  ;  thouj,di  two,  threi-,  and  even  four 
have  l)i'en  seen  l1.\ini;  loj^ether.  and  sometimes  six  or  ei^ht  may  he 
started  in  succi'ssion  from  a  siujijle  small  piece  of  cov«'r.  The  migra- 
tion is  performetl  during;  the  nij^iit;  thous^h  in  dull,  clouily  weather 
then-  is  some-  movement  in  the  day  linn-.  Their  llit^ht  is  low  ovir 
the  fielils,  and  sometimes  half  a  ilozen  will  pass  h)'  in  an  hour.  This 
low  Ili_i;ht  is  swift  anil  the  birds  are  often  killeii  by  ilyin^;  a_L;ainst 
ti'lej^raph  wires,  and  sometimes  dash  themsi'lves  aj,fainst  buildinLjs. 

In  New  \  ork  ami  New  Jersey,  the  woodcock  ma\  almost  be  con- 
siilered  as  resitii-nt,  for  in  milil  winters  a  few  birds  are  to  be  found 
late  in  December  and  earl\  in  I'fbruary.  The  bird  does  not  seem 
especially  to  ihi-ad  the  cold,  but  tiie  fnezinj;  up  of  the  jLjround  cuts 
off  the  sup|)ly  of  food,  anil  so  oblioes  it  to  move  southward.  Often, 
however,  in  the  coUlest  weatluT,  an  old  fat  bird  may  \t(\  found  about 
some  warm  spring  hole,  wh.ere  the  ni'ound  never  frii/es ;  and  lure, 
if  undislurbeil,  it  may  remain  all  through  the  winter. 

The  principal  food  of  woodcock  is  the  earth-worm,  thout^h  they 
also  (.1'  .Dur  many  insects  which  ari'  to  be  found  in  the  ilamp  situa- 
tions which  they  affect,  anil  have  been  seen  to  catch  butterflies. 
The  "  anyle-worm,"  however,  is  the  main  reliance  of  this  species,  anil 
the  number  of  those  which  a  single  bird  will  devour  in  a  yiven  time 
is  astonishinj^.  Auilubon  says  that  a  woodcock  will  devour  in  a 
sinjjie  niijht  more  than  its  own  weight  in  worms,  and  some  experi- 
ments on  this  point,  recently  made  on  a  captive  bird,  entirely  confirm 
the  oViservations  of  the  threat  naturalist.  This  specimen  was  appar- 
ently a  male,,  and  weis^hed,  at  the  time  of  its  capture,  five  ounces. 
His  caije  was  two  feet  long  and  one  deep,  and  had  been  fitted 
up  tor  him  by  covering  the  bottom  with  long,  dry  moss,  except  in  one 
end,  where  there  was  a  bo.x  of  wet  earth,  eight  inches  square  and 
three  deep.  The  bird  was  fed  altogether  on  earth-worms,  and  these 
were  buried,  a  few  at  a  time,  in  the  mud.  P>om  the  first,  this  wood- 
cock manifested  very  little  fear  of  man  ;  and  it  was  but  a  short  time 


J  lie  Anicfiian   Woodcock. 


I'.fJC     CM      VViiolJCOl  K. 


before  he  so  well  iinderstond  what  the  openinjr  of  liis  caj^c  door 
nu-ant,  lluit  at  tlu;  approach  of  his  owner  he  would  run  to  his  "  leed- 
inj^r  j^rroiiiul "  in  antieipalion  of  the  meal.  So  ea^a-r  was  he  thai  it 
was  necessary  to  push  him  awa\  to  the  other  end  of  the  taj,fe  while 
the  worms  wen;  heinj,^  hiiried.  As  soon  as  he  was  permitted  he 
would  run  to  the  mud  and  "  hon; "  for  the;  worms.  I'his  was  a  v<!ry 
interestin}4  proeeedintr.  lie  would  push  the  point  of  his  hill  into 
the  earth  at  an  anj,d(!  of  ahout  eighty  dej^rees,  anti  hy  two  or  thri.e 
dcjiiherate  thrusts  bury  it  to  th(;  basi'.  While  doinj,'  this  the  left  foot 
was  sli_i,duly  advanced,  and  the  body  somewhat  inclined  forward. 
When  the  bill  was  wliolly  buried,  he  stood  for  a  few  seconds  perf(,-ctly 
still,  as  if  listening;.  Perhaps  In;  was  doinj,^  so;  but  it  s(;ems  more 
probable  that  he  was  waitin.t,f  to  see  if  Ik;  could  p(;rceive  any  mov(;- 
ment  in  the  <;arth  n(;ar  his  bill.  If  none  was  fell  he  would  withdraw 
his  prob(;  and  thrust  it  in  aj^ain  a  litth;  furth(;r  on.  If,  however,  he 
detected  any  movement,  the  beak  was  hastily  withdrawn,  rapidly 
pluni^a.'d  in  attain  in  a  slij^ditly  different  direction,  and  the  unfortunate 
worm  was  brouj^-ht  to  the  surface  and  devoured  with  evident  satis- 
faction. When  the  supply  of  worms  was  exhausted  the  bird  care- 
fully cleansed  the  mud  from  his  bill  by  mc-ans  of  his  feet  and,  after 
j^dvin^r  iiinis(;lf  a  shake;  or  two,  retired  to  the;  farthest  corn(;r  of  his 
caj^e,  buri(;(.l  his  loni;-  beak  amon^-  the  f(;ath(;rs  of  his  back  and  set- 
tled himself  for  a  (iui(;t  after-dinner  nap.  Sometimes  he  would 
thrust  his  bill  down  amonjr  the  moss  onc(;  or  twic(;,  and  then  walking 
to  his  water-dish  would  w.ssh  it  b)-  slowly  tiiovinj,^  his  head  from 
side  to  side.  .After  he  had  been  confm<;d  for  ov(;r  a  month,  the 
worms  fed  to  the  bird  durinj^  twenty-four  consecutive;  hours  were 
counted  and  wei_<rhed,  and  he  was  found  to  have  eaten  two  hundred 
worms,  weighinjr  five  and  one-quarter  ounces.      At  the  end  of  this 


f 


i.  1 


\  a 


*  •' 


ii 


M 


692 


The  Amcncan  ll'oodcoik. 


iiH 


1;  ' 


tiim:  In:  was  still  eaj^cr  for  food.  Soim-what  later  he;  had  increased 
one  ounce  in  weij^ht,  anil  he  now  al<!  in  twenty-four  hours  no  less 
than  ei^ht  ounces  of  worms. 

If  il  were  worth  while  to  have  ;i  spttcial  j^iin  for  woodcock  shool- 
in}4,  it  should  weij^h  not  more  than  seven  pounds,  .with  2S-inch  l)arrels, 
and  he  of  12  or  \b  gaus^e;  hut  the  one  used  for  (|uail  will  answer 
i;very  purpose.  i'he  char^f  should  he  three  drams  powder  and 
an  ouiux'  of  1 2  shot.  As,  however,  (juail  and  ruffed  j^rouse  are 
almost  sure  to  he  starlt-d  during  a  day's  tramp  after  woodcock  in  the 
autumn,  a  more  i^eneral  ihar^c,  three  and  a  half  drams  powdcT 
anil  an  ounce  of  10  shot  is  hetter.  The  il(\i;"  is  a  most  important 
auxiliary  in  woodcock  shooliuir.  A  very  few  sportsmen  employ 
cocker  or  held  spaniels,  which  are  trained  to  ranj^e  close  to  the  j^jun, 
and  to  jj^ive  tongue  as  soon  as  they  strike  tlu'  sci-nt,  thus  warning 
the  shooter  of  the  proximity  of  the  hiril,  and  prepariuL;  him  for  its 
possihli'  rising.  Hut  most  men  use  the  setter  or  pointer.  A  gooil 
woodcock  ilog  should  work  close;  that  is,  within  sight  of  'he  gun. 
Often  where  the  inulergrowlh  is  very  thick,  il  becomes  necessarv  to 
attach  a  hell  to  the  ilog's  collar,  so  that  if  he  pass  out  of  sight  for  a 
few  moments,  his  whereabouts  may  still  be  known  by  the  souiul. 

I. ate  in  November  you  will  still  fmd  a  fmv  birds,  and  at  this  time 
they  will  all  be  lusty  and  strong  of  wing,  and  will  test  your  skill. 
Cross  the  meadows  thiMi,  and  go  down  into  the  swamp,  working 
along  near  the  eilge,  where  the  underbrush  is  not  too  thick,  and 
the  .soil  under  the  leaves,  as  you  can  see  in  the  cattle-tracks,  is  rich 
and  black.  Just  beyoiul  you  on  the  left,  a  steep  hill-siih;  rises 
sharply  from  the  edge  of  the  swamp,  its  surface  overgrown  with 
low  cedars,  sumacs,  anil  bayberry  bushes.  Ihe  old  dog  comes  out 
of  the  swam|)  and  turns  toward  the  slojje  ami,  as  he  crosses  bi;fore 
you,  glances  back  inipiiringly.  He  knows  the  hill-side,  and  under- 
stanils  as  well  as  you  do,  that  a  cock  is  usually  to  be  found  on  that 
warm  southern  exposure,  at  this  time  of  the  year.  No  need  to  wave 
the  hand  or  use  any  elaborate  signal  to  tell  him  to  work  up  among 
the  cedars  and  through  the  brush.  .\  little  siilewise  movement  of 
the  head,  and  he  is  breasting  the  steep  ascent,  and  rustling  among 
the  twigs  anil  over  the  crisp  leaves,  while  you  walk  along  a  cow- 
path  at  the  foot  of  the  slope.  If  there  be  a  bird  there,  it  will  be 
sure  to  fly  toward  the  swamp,  and  must,  therefore,  cross  in  front  of 
you.      I'or  a  few  moments    you    hear  the  dog    as  he  works  along 


M 


The  Aincnaui   lyooiicock. 


693 


;il)ovc'  you  ;  tlu:n  the  sountl  ceases  and,  as  you  pause  to  listen  for 
it,  there  conies  to  the  ear  that  shrill  whistle,  so  like  the;  niitlsunini(;r 
twitter  of  the  kinj^hird,  that  warns  you  to  "  mark  cock."  You  s(;e 
a  brown  Hash  ainonjf  the  ^^reen  cedars,  and  the  i)ird  darts  out  to 
|»lun}^<-  into  the  swamp  ;  hut  as  he  sees  you,  he  turns  sharply  and 
llit;s  down  tlu;  path,  slraijrht  away.  You  have  plenty  of  time  ; 
hrinjf  up  your  <^\\w  deliberately,  cover  the  bird  and,  when  it  is  about 
thirty  yards  distant,  hn;,  and  it  is  yours.  At  the  rirport  of  the  ^un 
your  dojf  app(;ars  on  the  bank  above;,  |)aus(;s  a  moment  until  you 
have  slipped  anoth(;r  cartridije  into  the;  j^un,  and  then  dashes  off 
toward  wIktc;  the  birti  lies.  ,\  word  sti:adies  him  as  he  approaclu^s 
it,  and  after  cpiartiTin^  once  or  twice;,  the  sc(;nt  reaches  his  nostrils. 
lie  feels  for  it,  tl»;n  pauses,  and  at  command  steps  forward,  j^ently 
takes  the  bird  in  his  mouth,  and  trots  slowly  toward  you,  e.xpress- 
injr  as  much  pride;  and  satisfaction  in  his  face  and  in  his  slowly 
waj^^MUjn  tail  as  if  he  had  captur(;d  the  prize  without  any  assistance  of 
yours.  On  attain,  alon^  the  border  of  the  swamp,  sometim(;s  stoop- 
injr  low  to  pass  b(;neath  the  lanj^^led  unde.-rbrush,  or  forcinj^j  your 
way  throu}.rh  the  thick  alders,  makinj^f  the  dea'l  st(;ms  crack  and  fly, 
or  passinj^  throui(h  a  spot  fr<;(;  from  low  shrubs,  where  the  tall,  i^ray 
trunks  of  the  hardwood  trees  stanil  far  apart,  and  the  footfidl  is 
scarcely  heard  on  the  damp,  dead  leaves.  I'"()r  some  time  th«;  dojr 
works  c|ui(;tly  ahead  of  you,  manifestinj^f  none  of  the  si^ns  which 
would  I(;ad  you  to  suspect  that  birds  wen;  near ;  but  as  you  approach 
a  little  arm  of  the  swamp  which  runs  u|)  a  narrow  ravine;,  the  merry 
action  of  the;  se;tte;r's  tail  warns  ye)u  te)  be  prejxireil  for  the  point. 
Yes,  there  wh(;re  the;  wind  has  swept  asiele  the  leaves,  e.xposinj^^  the; 
black  mud  beneath,  you  see  in  it  de)zens  of  little  rounel  hole;s  which 
tell  you  that  the  le)n!^'^  bill  has  been  at  we)rk  here.  Suddenly  he 
stops  and  stands  e|uile  still,  e.xcept  that  the  tip  e)f  his  tail  me)ves  a 
little  fre)m  siele  te.)  side.  As  you  step  up  to  him,  he;  moves  e)n  aj.(ain, 
very  sle)wly  and  cautie)usly,  and  then  sudde;nly  stops  and  remains 
motionless.  It  is  a  pretty  picture;,  and  one  that  the  sportsman  ne;ver 
tires  of  watciiinj,''  and  admirin}^.  The;  doit's  fe)refe)e)t  is  raised  in  the 
act  e)f  steppinj^,  his  tail  is  straij^ht  anel  rij^id,  head  a  little  above  the 
line  of  the  back  and  slijrhtly  turned  to  one  side,  ears  a  little  pricked. 
Walk  up  beside  him  and  look  at  his  face,  and  you  will  see,  what 
his  attitude  already  indicates,  that  he  is  laborinjr  under  strong 
excitement.  His  nose  is  perhaps  within  a  few  inches  of  the  bird, 
44A 


I   1 


^'\ 


s  . 


\  \ 


« I S 


1 


'if 


it 


t 


!M 


694 


7Vie  American  IVood/cock. 


and  the  scent  is  strong.  You  can  see  his  eyes  roll  as  he  looks 
over  the  ground  liefore  him.  His  forehead  is  knotted  into  a  frown, 
which  shows  how  thoroughly  in  earnest  he  is.  If  you  did  not  care 
about  getting  the  shot,  you  might  take  the  dog  up  l)y  the  tail  and 
the  back  of  the  neck  and  throw  him  down  to  the  ground  without 
his  relaxing  a  muscle.  He  would  remain  in  exactly  the  position 
he  had  when  he  touched  the  earth  again.  This  is  an  experiment 
which  one  may  easily  make  when  out  quail-shooting,  and  it  is  inter- 
esting to  see  how  completely  the  knowledge  of  the  presence  of  game 
overcomes  the  will-power  of  the  animal.  He  will  not  make  a  move- 
ment after  he  has  established  his  point.  You  may  put  the  raised 
forefoot  on  the  ground,  and  lift  the  other  one,  or  may  raise  a  hind- 
foot — everything  remains  just  as  you  placed  it. 

But  your  bird  does  not  usually  lie  long  enough  for  any  of  these 
operations  to  be  gone  through  with.  He  is  likely  to  fly  up,  from 
beneath  the  dog's  nose,  so  close  to  you  that  you  cannot  shoot  with- 
out running  the  risk  of  either  missing  altogether,  or  else  blowing 
him  to  fragments,  and  will  then,  perhaps,  dart  behind  a  thick  cedar, 
or  twist  into  some  alders,  through  which  you  can  hardly  see  to  shoot. 

The  "  alder  runs,"  so  numerous  throughout  the  New  England 
States,  are  most  satisfactory  places  to  work  for  woodcock.  These 
are  usually  the  channels  of  little  brooks,  a  few  feet  below  the  general 
level  of  the  open  meadows  through  which  they  pass.  The  ground 
is  too  damp  to  be  successfully  cultivated,  and  the  farmer  gives  it  up 
to  the  black  alder,  which  attains  a  height  of  from  fifteen  to  twenty 
feet.  Beneath  these,  in  the  wet,  s|:)ringy  soil,  the  skunk-cabbage 
( Symphuatpus ),  a  variety  of  ferns,  and  many  other  moisture-loving 
plants  grow  in  wild  luxuriance.  These  "runs,"  or  swales,  are  often 
so  narrow  that  the  best  way  to  hunt  them,  if  two  are  shooting  to- 
gether, is  for  one  to  take  each  side  and  let  the  dog  work  between 
them.  The  birds,  when  started,  will  either  show  themselves  above 
the  alders  or.  what  is  more  likely,  will  break  out  on  one  side  or 
the  other,  and  fly  forward  along  the  edge  of  the  bushes,  giving  a 
perfectly  open  shot,  and  one  which  not  even  a  tyro  ought  to  miss. 
In  working  out  such  places  the  bell  should  be  put  on  the  dog,  for  it  is 
often  so  dark  beneath  the  thick  growth  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  him. 
Should  he  come  to  a  point  and  the  bird  decline  to  rise,  a  heavy  stick  or 
stone  thrown  into  the  bushes,  just  in  front  of  him,  will  often  flush  it. 


IM 


,1  \ 


m  '■ 


\v       t 


rl' 


SNIPH-SHOOTING. 


By    GKORGK    bird    GRINNKLL,    Ph.  D. 


THE  Wilson's  snipe  is,  in  habits  and  appearance,  very  unlike 
his  near  relative  the  woodcock.  While  the  latter  is  a  rather 
lu:avily  built,  thick-set  bird, — stocky,  so  to  speak, — the  snipe 
is  much  more  slim  and  elegant  in  form.  It  is  much  smaller,  too, 
weijrhing  only  about  four  ounces.  It  very  closely  resembles  the 
jack  snipe  of  Europe, — whence  its  usual  appellation,  "  English," — 
of  which  it  is,  according  to  the  present  views  of  ornithologists,  only 
a  variety  (Gallinago  media  Wilsoni).  In  length  it  almost  etpials 
its  cousin,  already  referred  to,  measuring  from  nine  to  eleven  inches. 
The  crown  of  the  head  is  black,  with  a  median  stripe  of  cream  color, 
the  neck  speckled  with  brown  and  gray,  back  variegated  with  black, 
reddish  brown,  and  tawny,  the  latter  forming  longitudinal  stripes  on 
the  inner  long  feathers  of  the  shoulders.  The  tail  is  barred  with 
black,  white,  and  chestnut  brown,  the  sides  are  waved  with  dusky, 
and  the  lower  breast  and  belly  are  white.  The  bill  is  dark,  and  the 
feet  and  legs  are  pale  greenish. 

This  species  has  a  very  wide  distribution,  and  is  found  through- 
out the  whole  continent.  It  only  insists  on  moist  feeding-grounds, 
and  so  may  be  taken  on  the  borders  of  streams  and  about  the 
sloughs  of  the  Western  plains,  around  the  edges  of  the  alkaline 
lakes  of  the  great  central  plateau  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  in 
the  marshes  and  along  the  river  bottoms  of  California,  as  well  as  in 
the  East  and  the  Mississippi  valley. 

It  passes  the  winter  in  the  Gulf  States,  where  at  that  season  it  is 
extremely  abundant,  and  begins  its  northward  migration  early  in 
February.     By  the  last  of  that  month  it  has  reached  the  marshes  of 


1 


i 


'  I 


w 


If' 


,1 


\    I 


]fS!  i  . 


I  i. 


696 


S////>i'  -  S/ioofing. 


North  Carolina,  and  sonu'tiim-s  Virginia  ;  and  it  usually  makes  its 
ap|K;aranct"  in  New  Jersey  ami  New  York  about  tiie  last  ot  March 
or  the  rtrsl  of  April,  though  the  ilate  of  its  arrival  depiinds  almost 
entirely  on  the  weather,  and  the  consecpient  condition  of  its  feeding- 
grounds.  As  long  as  tin-  meadows  an;  ice-hound  it  is  useless  to 
look  for  snipe;  hut  as  soon  as  the  frost  has  come  out  of  the  ground, 
especially  if  the  last  thaw  be  followed  by  a  soft,  warm  rain,  the 
shooter  may.  with  some  prospect  of  succcjss,  visit  the  little  spots 
of  w'Ji  land,  or  the  more  extensive  marshes,  where  his  experience  of 
former  years  tells  him  that  the  binls  are  likely  to  be  found,  At  this 
time  of  the  year  they  do  not  tarry  long;  but  the  |jlaces  of  those 
which  pass  on  are  at  once  fdled  by  later  comers,  who  are  in  turn 
replaced  by  others,  so  that  snipe  art;  usually  found  in  greater  or  less 
abundance  until  after  the  first  of  May. 

This  species  does  not  ordinarily  breed  with  us  in  an\  considerable 
numbers,  most  of  the  birds  jjassing  the  season  of  reproduction  north 
of  the  United  States  line.  Still,  many  rear  their  broods  in  th<;  .State 
of  Maine,  and  their  nests  have  been  found  in  Connecticut,  New 
York,  Pennsylvania,  and  eve'ii  further  south.  The  nest  is  built  on 
the  high  ground  near  .somk;  wet  meadow, — or  sonu'times  on  a  dry 
one  if  a  tiny  brook  murmurs  through  the  grass  iu;ar  at  iiaml,  —  and 
is  even  of  slighter  construction  than  that  of  the  woodcock,  lK;ing  little 
more  than  a  depression  in  the  ground  lined  with  a  few  blades  of 
grass,  b'our  pointed  eggs  are  laid  in  this,  \ello\vish-olive  in  color, 
thickly  spotted  with  black  and  dark  umber.  The  young  leave  the 
nest  as  soon  as  they  are  hatched  and  follow  the  mother,  or,  as  the 
naturalists  would  say,  they  are  pnecocial. 

The  snipe  is  essentially  a  bird  of  the  open,  and  is  rarely  found  in 
cover.  Occasionally  in  the  spring,  when  a  late  fall  of  snow  occurs 
after  the  birds  have  come  on,  covering  for  a  day  or  two  the  meadows 
where  they  feed.  th(;y  may  bv  found  in  alder  or  willow  swamps  near 
their  usual  haunts,  probing  the  mutl  about  the  warm  springs  where 
the  snow  has  melted  ;  but  as  soon  as  the  groimd  is  again  l)are  they 
leave  such  retreats  and  at  once  repair  t(^  the  open.  .Sometimes,  too, 
when  persisiendy  pursued  on  tiie  marshes,  they  will  take  refuge 
among  woods  or  even  in  dry  and  dusty  corn-fields,  but  will  only 
remain  there  for  a  few  hours. 

The  favorite  feeding-grounds  of  the  snipe  are  fresh  meadows, 
where  the  ground  is  always  moist  and  the  soil  rich.     One  can  tell  as 


h 


t    ; 


M 


A     WILSON'S    >MI'I';    IAMIL\, 


I 


(UH.WVS     in    JAMI.^    (.    ni.AKI)     FRilM     MM.CIMKNs    IN      IIIK    (  i  il.l  KCTIliN    i)K    :;K,    1.    B,    WlllTlNl.HAM, 

MOINII  ri    IIV     HAVIli    II,    IIICKKKSOS.) 


■  1 

y    ! 

i^h 

^  \'( 

W' 


1 1  rf:> 


i 
i 


if 


! 

Sl'ti 


ll"; 


f  ■ 


'         I!       I 


Hi   ' 


m' 


mml 


^\ 


4        t 


I    II 


Si! 

,!Si* 


!.: 


SNipi-S/iootiiig. 


699 


soon  as  lu-  steps  on  tlu;  inoailow  whetlu-r  the  liinls  have  recently 
lircn  here  ;  for  in  the  cattU"  paths  or  in  phices  w  here  tlie  hoi;s  have 
heen  rootins^-,  or  on  the  bare  siile  of  a  tussock  where  no  orass  o rows, 
the  si>il  will  he  pertorated  hy  nunu-roiis  tiny  holes,  showing  where 
the  hill  has  ln-en  inserteil  in  the  inuil  in  the-  st-arch  tor  looil.  i'he 
pre'i'iice  ol  hiijh  ijrasses  or  reetls  may  sonu-tinies  keep  the  hirds 
away  fr««n  marshes  to  which  they  wouKl  resort  in  numlnTs  it"  it  were 
not  lor  the  luxuriance  ot"  the  vegetation.  They  ilo  not  like  to  alight 
amoni;  such  thick  cover,  ami  hesiiles,  they  cannot  easily  yft  at  the 
grouiul.  it  is  therefore  customary,  in  the  early  sprins;  hetore  their 
arrival,  to  hum  ovrr  such  tracts,  anil  places  that  have  heen  treated 
in  this  way  are  favorite  resorts  tor  the  travelers. 

At  present  the  Wilson's  snipe  is  shot  at  all  times  and  seasiMis, 
anil  has  no  protectittn  untler  the  law.  The  result  of'  this  unwise 
destruction  is  clearly  seen  in  the  oreatK  diminished  numbers  of"  the 
hirds  which  annuallv  visit  our  more  accessibh-  meadows.  It  a  female 
snipe,  killiil  in  .Xjtril  ov  May,  he  ilissecteil,  she  will  be  foumi  to  con- 
tain eoos  in  an  ailvanct'il  statue  of"  ik-velopment.  varyiiij.;  in  size  from 
a  marble  to  an  eo,v>-  m-arly  ready  t'or  exclusion.  .\lan\  of  the  iiinls 
are  paired  lou!:;-  bet'ori'  they  le.ive  us  in  sprin*.;-.  They  certainly 
should  not  Ih'  shot  at  this  season,  just  as  they  ari'  about  to  rear  their 
youns.;.  Snipe-shoiuini;  in  autumn  is  much  more  satisfactory,  and 
the  birils  appt.-ar  to  be  more  numerous  than  in  the  spriiiiv,  In'cause 
at  this  si-ason  their  f'et'ilin<.^-s;rounds  ari'  more  contracted,  ami  they 
ciMicentrate  on  the  meadows  that  are  always  wet,  and  alunit  ponils 
and  marshes  which  have  mari;ins  of"  black  mud,  in  whicli  they 
ilelii;ht  to  liore.  The  prospect  ol"  tindinj;  them  is  thus  much  better 
than  when  thev  are  dispersed  over  a  much  <;reater  area. 

The  main  iHulyofthe  snipe  leave  us  bv  the  hitter  part  ol  N'ovt-in- 
bi-r,  Init  .1  lew  pri>lon^  their  stav  into  Hecemln'r,  lins^eriui;  as  lontj 
as  their  let  din:^  i;rounds  remain  opi'U.  As  with  the  wiuuKock,  thi' 
cold  is  onl\  indirectlv  the  c.uise  ol"  their  departure  ;  the  impossil>ility 
i>f'  tlieir  longer  obtainin;;  \oo(\  beius;  the  innnedi.ile  motive  which 
drives  thi-m  south.  On  the  Laramie  plains,  where  in  winter  the 
temperature  l.ills  sometimes  to  — ;,o  ,  ami  even  — .\o  ,  hahrenheit.  a 
t"e\v  snipe  ari'  to  be  found  thrt)UL;lu)Ut  tlie  winter,  .ib.  .ut  certain  warm 
sjirinys  which  luwer  free/e. 

l'"ew  of  our  birds  ari-  so  poor  in  local  names  as  this  one,  for  it  is 
almost  evervwhere  known  i-ither  .is  tin-   "  l-.n^lish  "  or  the  "jack" 


i 


r 


u 


i'll 


<ll 


ill 


';''f  •    I 


.  'ii,    i 


■;r(  "^ 


ir 


I  ; 


(    i 


\  .'"iH 

ill  I 

;J 


M: 


'Vr 


700 


5;///f  -  Shooting. 


snipe.  Along  the  New  England  coast,  however,  it  has  an  appella- 
tion which  is  rather  curious.  As  the  bird  arrives  about  the  same 
time  as  the  shad,  and  is  found  on  the  meadows  along  the  rivers 
where  the  nets  are  hauled,  the  fishermen,  when  drawing  their  seines 
at  night,  often  start  it  from  its  moist  resting-place,  and  hear  its  sharp 
cry  as  it  flies  away  through  the  darkness.  They  do  not  know  the 
cause  of  the  sound,  and  from  the  association  they  have  dubbed  its 
author  the  "shad  spirit." 

The  snipe  is  either  a  l^ird  of  weak  mind,  deplorably  vacillating 
in  character,  or  else  he  is  much  more  shrewd  and  profound  than 
any  one  thinks.  At  all  events,  he  is  notorious  among  sportsmen  for 
two  characteristics,  denoting  either  high  intelligence  or  lamentable 
indecision. 

Most  birds  when  they  rise  from  the  ground  appear  to  have  some 
definite  idea  of  the  direction  in  which  they  wish  to  go,  and  having 
started  in  a  particular  line  of  flight,  keep  to  it,  unless  turned  by  some 
alarming  apparition  before  them.  Not  so  with  the  snipe,  however. 
He  springs  from  the  ground  uttering  his  curious  scpieakingcry,  darts 
a  few  yards  one  way,  changes  his  mind,  and  turns  almost  at  right 
angles  to  his  original  course  ;  then  he  appears  to  think  he  has  made 
a  mistake,  and  once  more  alters  his  direction,  and  so  twists  off, 
"angling"  across  the  meadow  until  he  is  safely  out  of  gunshot.  He 
then  either  rises  high  in  the  air  ami  swings  about  for  awhile,  looking 
for  a  desirable  spot  to  alight,  or  else  settles  down  into  a  straight, 
swift  course,  which  he  keeps  up  until  his  fright  is  over  or  he  has 
come  to  a  spot  which  is  to  his  liking,  when  he  throws  himself  to  the 
earth,  and  with  a  peculiar  toss  of  his  wings  checks  his  progress  and 
alights.  The  eccentric  zigzag  flight  of  this  species  is  very  puzzling 
to  many  sportsmen  ;  and  some  w  ho  are  capital  shots  at  other  birds 
appear  never  to  be  able  to  calculate  the  movements  of  the  snipe. 
The  secret  of  success  in  killing  these  birds  consists,  we  believe,  in 
great  quickness, — that  is,  in  wasting  no  time  in  an  attempt  to  follow 
their  flight,  but  in  pulling  the  trigger  at  the  moment  the  gun  is  on 
the  object.  The  peculiar  cry  which  is  uttered  at  short  intervals 
during  its  flight  is  sometimes  e.\tremel\  irritating,  especially  after 
one  has  missed  with  both  barrels.  What  appearctl  wlu^n  first  heard 
to  be  only  an  e.xpression  of  fright,  or  a  call  of  warning  to  its  compan- 
ions, sounds  to  the  disappointed  shooter,  as  it  comes  back  to  him 


i 


Snipe  -  Shooting. 


701 


more  and  more  faintly  from  the  distance,  very  much  like  a  note  of 
derision. 

The  other  characteristic  for  which  the  snipe  is  noted  is  the  eccen- 
tricity and  irregularity  of  its  arrival  and  stay  with  us  during  the 
migrations.  That  snipe  are  "uncertain  birds"  is  a  proposition  which 
has  universal  acceptance  among  those  who  shoot  over  the  wet  mead- 
ows. .As  a  rule,  more  dependence  is  to  be  placed  on  their  coming  in 
the  fall  than  in  the  spring.  Hut  even  in  autumn  they  cannot  be 
counted  upon.  .Sometimes  they  arrive  singly,  or  a  few  at  a  time,  and 
those  which  are  killed  to-day  are  at  once  replaced  by  others  ;  or 
again,  for  a  week  or  two  at  a  time,  the  meadows  may  be  worked 
over  without  starting  a  bird,  and  then  all  at  once  they  will  be  found 
in  great  numbers,  and  will  then  as  suddenly  and  as  completely  dis- 
appear. A  piece  of  ground  which  at  evening  affords  splendid  sport 
may  be  visited  at  dawn  ne.xt  day,  and  it  will  be  found  that  the  birds 
which  were  there  have  all  departed.  Happs'  is  the  man,  therefore, 
who  finds  the  snipe  plenty,  and  he  is  wise  who  shall  take  advantage 
of  the  present  opportunity.  The  advice,  Carpc  diem,  applies  with 
more  force  to  snipe-shooting  than  it  does  to  a  good  many  others  of 
the  affairs  of  life. 

As  earl)'  as  tlic  last  of  August,  nn  occasional  snipe  may  be  found 
on  the  meadows ;  i)ut  it  is  not  until  the  latter  part  of  September  that 
the  migrants  begin  to  arrive  in  any  numbers.  They  are  now  in 
good  order — often  very  fat — ai)d  are  lazy,  and  lie  well  to  a  dog,  if 
the  weather  is  right.  The  pleasantest  time  to  shoot  them  is  during 
the  warm  days  of  October  and  November. 

At  such  a  time  the  birds  are  loath  to  rise,  and  will  permit  the 
dog  to  approach  (|uite  close  to  them  before  taking  wing.  On 
dark,  cloudy  days,  on  the  other  hand,  especially  if  the  wind  be  high, 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  getting  a  point  on  them,  for  they  will 
rise  at  a  distance  of  thirty  or  forty  yards,  and  often  the  flight  of 
the  first  one  and  his  sharp  skcap.  .'ikcaf)  will  be  the  signal  for  ex'ery 
snipe  on  the  meadow  to  rise  into  the  air  and  circle  around  for  five 
or  ten  minutes  before  pitching  down  again.  In  such  weather  as 
this,  the  only  chance  of  getting  within  shot  of  them  is  to  work 
down  the  wind, — thus  reversing  the  usual  order  of  things  in  shoot- 
inu-, — and  to  keep  tht;  dog  close  in.  Snipe  always  rise  against 
the  wind,  and,   by  advancing  on   them   with   it  at    your   back,   they 


\' 


'.i 


n 


I'll* 


h 
I 


702 


Snipe -Shooting. 


\\' 


i  'I 


are  forced  to  fly  toward  you  for  some  little  distance,  thus  giving 
you  an  opportunity  to  get  a  shot  at  them  at  fair  range. 

Where  birds  are  scarce,  a  good  dog  is  invaluable,  because  of 
the  amount  of  laborious  walking  that  he  saves  the  shooter;  but 
there  are  times  and  places  where  a  dog  is  very  much  in  the  way. 
Such  are  some  of  our  western  snipe  grounds,  marshes  where  these 
birds  are  sometimes  so  abundant  that  they  rise  from  the  ground 
a  dozen  at  a  time,  and  where,  perhaps  for  hours,  the  sound  of  their 
bleating  cry  is  heard  almost  continually.  Under  such  circumstances, 
a  dog  is  only  an  annoyance ;  for  the  ground  is  so  foiled  by  the 
scent  of  the  many  birds  that  have  run  over  it  that  the  poor 
animal  is  confused,  and  is  constantly  false -pointing  and  wasting 
his  master's  time.  Here  the  only  use  to  which  the  dog  can  be 
put  is  that  of  retrieving.  There  are  some  cunning  old  dogs  that, 
when  they  find  such  a  condition  of  things  existing,  will  come  in  to 
heel  without  orders,  and  pay  no  further  attention  to  the  birds 
which  are  rising  around  them,  only  occupying  themselves  with  the 
securing  of  those;  that  may  be  shot. 

This  bird  does  not  give  forth  a  strong  scent,  and  as  it  is  often 
very  little  disposed  to  lie  well,  a  dog  of  unusual  keenness  of  nose, 
as  well  as  caution  and  steadiness,  is  recjuired  in  its  pursuit.  A 
very  faint  scent  should  be  enough  to  cause  him  to  stop  until  his 
master  has  come  up  to  him,  and  he  should  then  draw  on  very 
carefully  until,  if  it  will  wait,  he  can  locate  his  bird.  There  are 
days,  to  be  sure,  when  snipe  will  permit  the  dog  to  get  his  nose 
within  a  few  inches  of  them,  but  this  is  the  e.xception  rather  than 
the  rule. 

It  is  always  a  convenience,  however,  to  have  a  retriever  with  one 
while  snipe-shooting,  for  without  considerable  practice  it  is  not  easy 
to  mark  down  the  dead  bird  so  accurately  that  you  can  walk  direct 
to  it.  This  becomes  especially  diflicult  when  several  birds  rise 
together,  or  nearly  so,  and  you  shoot  first  one  and  then  another, 
and  then  perhaps  try  to  mark  down  the  remainder  of  the  whisp. 
You  have  a  general  idea  of  the  direction  in  which  the  first  one  fell, 
and  are  sure  that  the  second  dropped  close  by  a  certain  little  bunch 
of  grass  ;  but  when,  after  having  strained  your  eyes  after  the  living 
and  marked  them  down,  \ou  turn  your  attention  to  the  dead,  you  are 
likely  to  find  yourself  somewhat  perplexed.    You  see  now  that  there 


Snipe  -Shooting. 


703 


are  a  dozen  little  bunches  of  grass  near  where  the  second  bird  fell, 
any  one  of  which  may  be  that  by  which  you  marked  him  ;  and  as  for 
the  first,  you  feel  very  hopeless  about  being  able  to  go  within  twenty 
yards  of  where  it  dropped.  So  you  may  lose  half  an  hour  of  valu- 
able time  in  searching  for  the  dead.  Practice  in  marking  and  a 
quick  eye  will,  after  awhile,  enable  you  to  retrieve  your  own  birds 
successfully.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  always  something — a 
bunch  of  grass,  a  bit  of  drift  stuff,  a  flower,  a  leaf  or  a  weed  stalk 

—  near  your  bird  which  is  unlike  anything  else  close  to  it;  and 
you  must  see  this  object,  whatever  it  is,  and  remember  it,  in  the 
instant's  glance  that  you  have.      Of  course,  some  birds  will  lje  lost, 

—  that  is  inevitable;  but  it  is  wonderful  to  see  how,  by  practice, 
the  memory  and  the  eye  can  be  trained    in  a  matter  of  this  kind. 

The  snipe,  although  often  very  wary,  appears  to  be  cpiite  devoid 
of  that  cunning  which  distinguishes  so  many  of  our  game  birds. 
When  wounded,  it  rarely  attempts  to  hide,  but  either  runs  off  cpiietly 
in  a  straight  course,  or,  if  only  wing-tipped,  springs  again  and  again 
into  the  air  in  its  attempts  to  fly,  and  constantly  utters  its  singular 
squeak  of  fright. 

There  is  one  feature  of  snipe-shooting  which  makes  it  very 
attractive,  and  this  is  that  you  have  your  dog  constantly  within 
sight;  you  can  see  all  his  graceful  movements  and  enjoy  his  intelli- 
gent efforts  to  find  the  birds, — to  locate  without  flushing  them.  To 
our  notion,  more  than  half  the  plt.'asure  of  field  shooting  of  any 
description  is  derived  from  seeing  the  dog  work,  and  this  can  be 
done  better  on  the  open  snipe  meadows  than  under  almost  any 
other  circumstances.  Beating  for  snij)e,  however,  is  usually,  from 
the  nature  of  the  ground,  very  laborious  work.  'I'he  walking  is 
often  through  mud  and  water  up  to  the  knec-s.  or  perhaps  one  is 
obliged  to  |)ick  his  way  through  an  unusually  soft  marsh,  springing 
from  tussock  to  tussock,  with  every  prospect  of  tumbling  now  ami 
then  from  those  unsteady  resting  places  into  mire  of  unknown 
depth.  This  mode  of  progression  requires  some  muscular  exertion 
and  constant  attention  ;  and  besides  this,  the  dog  must  be  con- 
stantly watched,  and  unexpected  birds,  which  he  may  have  passed 
by,  must  be  shot  at  and  marked  down. 

It  is  therefore  essential  that  the  snipe-shooter  should  carry  no 
extra  weight.      His  gun    should  be  light,   and    his   cartridges   need 


1 

d^mk 

\'k 

■ 

;'^lni 

:    k 


|i 


4 


II 


.  i: 


m 


i  • 


4 


I 


m 


n 


B 

f  •[« 

H 

I 


I  1     ! 


.» 


I 


!  I 


'.m 


I|^ 


«4) 


n. 


704 


Snipe -Shooting. 


not  hold  more  than  an  ounce  of  No.  12  shot;  for  this  bird  is 
easily  killed,  and,  as  it  is  so  small,  and  often  rises  at  a  consider- 
able distance,  it  is  important  that  as  many  of  the  leaden  pellets 
as  possible  should  be  sent  after  it.  Rubber  boots  reaching  to  the 
hip  are,  of  course,  necessary,  and  the  clothing  should  be  gray  or 
brown  in  color, — inconspicuous,  at  all  events.  The  places  in  which 
the  snipe  are  found  are  often  resorted  to  by  some  species  of  our 
ducks  as  well.  The  little  pools  and  creeks,  which  are  sure  to  be 
found  in  extensive  snipe  marshes,  furnish  food  for  the  blue  and 
green  winged  teal,  the  black  duck,  mallard,  baldpate,  and  wood- 
duck.  It  will  therefore  be  advisable  for  one  who  is  about  to 
visit  '^nch  ('rounds  to  put  in  his  pocket  half  a  dozen  cartridges, 
loau  '  w  c  ree  and  a  half  drams  of  powder  and  an  ounce  of  No. 
8  shot;  !r  .ll'  )ugh  No.  12  may  prove  effective  against  the  ducks 
at  short  range,  it  is  well  to  be  prepared  for  longer  shots. 

As  ■  tvveen  w  'odcock  and  English  snipe,  the  preference  would 
be  given  with  ijut  k:  >  c'i.s  enting  voices  to  the  larger  bird.  Snipe- 
shootine,  from  the  errirtic  movements  of  the  bird,  is  somethin«r  that 
cannot  be  depended  on.  while,  if  the  conditions  of  weather  and 
feeding- grounds  are  favorable,  one  may  count  with  some  certainty 
at  the  proper  season  on  having  sport  with  the  woodcock.  As 
regards  delicacy  of  flavor,  there  is  nothing  to  choose  between  the 
two.  l^or  birds  so  nearly  related  they  are  wonderfully  unlike  in 
appearance  and  habits,  and  the  snipe  is  certainly  much  better  able 
to  take  care  of  himself  than  his  rusty-coated  cousin. 


EOG    liF    WILSONS    SNIPE. 


/. 


V  J 


FIELD    SPORTS    IN    MINNESOTA. 


Uy   CHARLKS   a.   ZIMMERMAN. 


THE  fall  of  1877  will  lonjr  be  remembered  by  the  people  of 
Minnesota  as  the  time  when  the  destructive  locust  took  his 
farewell  meal  from  their  wheat-fields.  Fields  that  might  have 
yielded  from  three  to  five  bushels  of  wheat  per  acre  were  not  jrleaned 
at  all,  but  left  to  be  plowed  over  in  the  fall.  To  such  fields  as  these 
the  wild  fowl,  for  which  the  .State  is  noted,  resorted  undisturbed,  and 
geese,  brant,  cranes,  and  ducks  fairly  reveled  in  their  bounty. 

It  may  well  be  imagined  that  news  of  this  state  of  affairs  sent 
numerous  hunting  parties  out  along  the  two  lines  of  railroad  that 
penetrate  the  afflicted  region,  viz.,  the  .Sioux  City  and  St.  Paul,  and 
the  St.  Paul  and  Pacific  road.s.  During  the  last  week  in  September 
of  that  year,  the  writer  found  himself  with  a  party  of  three  friends  cu 
route  by  the  second-named  road  for  a  few  days'  stay  among  the  wild 
fowl  in  Kandiyohi  County.  With  every  possible  convenience  for 
camping  out,  the  outfit  comprised  also  a  portable  Bond  boat,  and  a 
full   complement  of  decoy-ducks,    together   with   a   dozen   or   more 

goo.se-decoys,   all  of  our  own  manufacture.      \\' ,  our  "  .Senior," 

brought  along  his  retrieving  setter  and  constant  companion,  "  Prince." 
H ,  our  "Junior,"  from  Lake  City,  Minnesota,  exhibitetl  with  par- 
donable pride  his  "  Royal  P'an,"  a  dark  liver-and-white  pointer,  the 
first-prize  winner  in  her  class  at  the  New  York  Pench  Sho\\-  of  1877. 
"Turk,"  a  dark-brown   Irish  water-spaniel,  accompanied  his  master 

J ,  the  most  tireless  hunter  of  the  party.      "  Inillcr"  and  "Occie," 

a  matched  pair  of  black-and-white  setters,  were  the  property  of  the 
writer,  and  with  those  before  mentioned  comprised  the  dogs  of  the 
party. 

45 


li  t] 


li 


'e 


I'/f^'  ~ 


706 


Field  Sports  in  Minnesota. 


f  I' 


A  run  of  six  hours  brought  us  to  Swede  Grove,  where  we  left 
the  cars  and  were  met  by  Mr.  William  Wilcox,  alias  "  Hill,"  a  well- 
to-do  farmer  and  an  ardent  sportsman.  His  two-horse  team  and 
wagon  furnished  us  transportation  to  his  house. 

"  I'm  glad  you've  come,"  said  Hill,  as  we  drove  up  briskly  to  the 
open  door  of  his  roomy  dwelling;  "for  the  sand-hill  cranes  have 
been  goin'  for  what  little  corn  the  plaguey  'hoppers  left  standin', 
and  'pears  to  me,  gentlemen,  with  such  guns  as  you  have  got 
along,  you  might  make  it  right  lively  for  'em." 

"Yes,"  chimed  in  his  wife;  "you  can  hear  them  even  now,  gen- 
tlemen. The  noise  is  gettin'  unbearable ;  and  if  you'll  step  up  here 
on  the  porch,  you  can  see  them  plain." 

We  assured  her,  while  taking  a  look  at  the  large  birds,  as  they 
covered  the  field  like  a  flock  of  sheep,  that  nothing  would  please  us 
better  than  an  immediate  attack ;  but  even  as  we  debated  on  a  plan 
of  assault,  the  cranes,  to  the  number  of  several  hundred,  as  if  they 
scented  danger,  took  wing  and  with  discordant  cries  circled  about 
until  they  attained  a  certain  altitude,  when  they  left  in  the  direction 
of  Hig  Marsh. 

I  had  long  desired  to  make  the  closer  acquaintance  of  these  birds, 
incited  a  little,  too,  by  many  a  failure  to  stalk  them.  On  the  sly,  for 
fear  of  being  laughed  at  by  my  companions,  I  had  brought  along  three 
crane-decoys,  neatly  cut  out  of  card-board  and  painted  light  gray,  in 
fair  imitation  of  the  sand-hill  crane.  Here,  at  once,  was  the  oppor- 
tunity to  make  a  test  of  their  merit.  So,  leaving  the  rest  of  the  party 
at  a  favorable  moment,  I  took  my  way  to  the  corn-field,  where  all  was 
now  quiet.  The  ground  had  been  beaten  hard  in  places  by  the  busy 
feet  of  the  marauding  cranes,  and  corn-stalks  lay  here  and  there,  as 
the  hungry  birds  had  wantonly  tossed  them.  It  did  not  take  long  to 
select  a  convenient  "shock''  for  a  "blind,"  or  ambush,  and  I  returned 
to  the  house  filled  with  anticipations  of  the  coming  sport.  Upon  the 
floor  of  Hill's  cozy  sitting-room,  surrounded  by  his  children,  who 
regarded  my  movements  with  open-mouthed  attention,  I  proceeded 
with  some  diffidence  to  unwrap  the  package  of  decoys.  Presently  the 
crane  counterfeits  stood  disclosed,  and  a  ripple  of  merriment  went 
round  the  circle,  ending  in  a  perfect  roar  upon  the  entrance  of  my 
friends,  who  relentlessly  joined  in. 

"  If  you  think,  mister,"  said  one  of  the  plow-boys,  after  the  mer- 
riment   had    somewhat   subsided   that,    "  you  can  fool  a  crane  with 


Field  SpoHs  in  Minnesota. 


707 


such  nonsense, 
I  j^iiess  you 
find  yourself 
much  mistak- 
en. Why,  I'd 
be  wilHn'  to 
pay  )'ou  a 
dollar  apiece 
for  all  you 
can  shoot  over 
them   things." 

"You  shall 
have  a  chance," 
I  said,  some- 
what     nettled. 

'•  When  you  ritle  out  to  your  plowinjj;^  in  the  morning,  come  to 
my  stand,  and  you  may  have  an  opjjortunity  to  invest  your  small 
change." 

When  at  last  it  was  light  enough  to  distinguish  objects  about 
me,  I  had  been  at  my  post  in  the  corn-field  a  full  hour,  almost 
breathless  with  e.xpectation.  ,  What  if  the  cranes  should  fail  to 
come,  and  I  be  compelled  to  return  to  the  house  empt)-handed 
and  face  my  more  fortunate  companions,  the  distant  report  of 
whose  guns  had   been    repeatedly  borne  to  me  from  the  direction 


H. 


I  i  \ 


!i 


m 


1 


I]  I 

i. 


'IS:! 


I!.- 


I 


f 

III 


■\l 


\  ''A 


7o8 


Field  Spoyts  in  Minnesota. 


\  \ 


mm, 


of  Crow  River  and  Wilcox  Pass?  Worse  than  this  would  be  the 
triumph  of  the  knij,dn  of  the  plowshare.  For  the  sixth  time,  cer- 
tainly, I  walked  off  a  little  distance  and  took  a  survey  of  my  ambush, 
about  which  the  three  "  base  libels"  were  so  naturally  j^rouped  as  to 
give  me  quite  a  start  when  my  eyes  fell  suddenly  upon  them.  The 
smoke  curled  lazily  upward  from  the  farm-hou.se  chimney,  and  lost 
itself  in  a  veil  of  mist  which  slowly  ascended  from  the  lake  on  the 
right  of  the  house.  Now,  the  upper  edge  of  the  cloud  mist  took 
on  a  rosy  hue,  due  to  the  first  warm  rays  of  the  sun,  which  seemed 
to  be  rising  from  an  early  morning  bath  in  Wilcox  Lake.  The 
varying  beauties  of  the  veil  of  mist  were  duplicated  by  reflection 
in  the  still  water  beneath.  The  beauty  of  the  scene  made  me 
quite  forget  my  disappointment. 

There  is  considerable  activity  now  among  Hill's  barn -yard  fowls, 
and  I  can  even  see  his  little  folks  scampering  about  the  yard.  A 
gentle  breeze  has  ruffled  the  surface  of  the  lake  and  carried  away 
every  trace  of  the  fog  which  made  the  sunrise  so  beautiful.  My 
slender  decoys  feel  the  influence  of  the  wind,  and  nod  in  a  ludicrous, 
if  not  most  natural,  manner.  But  in  another  minute  I  am  scamp- 
ering back'  to  my  blind,  for  in  the  clear  sky  above  Hig  Marsh  I 
have  discovered  a  flock  of  cranes  winging  their  way  in  a  direct 
line  for  this  field.  Stepping  quickly  into  my  blind,  I  grasp  my 
trusty  gun,  and  somewhat  nervously  await  their  approach.  Though 
scarcely  considered  fast  flyers,  they  are  not  long  in  traversing  the 
intervening  space,  and  presently  are  circling  about  over  me,  evidently 
scanning  the  ground  closely.  Of  course,  when  directly  overhead, 
the  decoys  are  invisible  to  them,  but  are  again  clearly  seen  when 
they  have  swung  off  at  an  angle.  A  little  more  maneuvering,  and 
they  seem  to  conclude  there  is  no  enemy  about,  for  they  set  their 
wings,  and,  with  long  legs  awkwardly  dangling  in  the  air,  come  on 
slowly,  preparing  to  alight.  Almost  before  I  am  aware  of  it  they 
are  upon  me. — one,  intleed,  so  near  that,  were  I  to  fire  now,  he 
would  be  fearfully  mangled.  The  leader  of  the  flock  offers  a  tempt- 
ing shot  at  thirty-five  yards ;  him  I  give  the  contents  of  my  eight 
barrel,  and  he  doubles  up  instantly  over  my  sight.  Not  wasting 
an  instant,  in  the  hope  of  making  a  "right  and  left."  I  "cut  away" 
again  at  the  now  thoroughly  alarmed  flock,  and  one  more  of  the 
immense  birds  comes  to  the  ground.      Too  elated  with  my  success 


I'icid  SpoHs  in  Minnesota. 


709 


A    CLOSK    SHOT. 


to  exorcise  patience,  or  even  to  think  of  caution,  I  do  not  pause  to 
reload,  but,  droppinif  my  ^un,  run  rapidly  to  ba_i(.  The  first  is  found 
dead  within  forty  yards  ;  ^tjiving-  him  only  a  j,dance,  I  pass  on  to  the 
other,  which  is  not  less  than  sixty  yards  from  the  blind.  The  old 
fellow  seems  dead  enouj.'^h,  and  without  much  ado  I  stoop  to  pick  him 
up,  when  he  astonishes  me  by  instantly  risinjr  to  his  feet,  with  every 
feather  ruffled  and  his  long  wings  beating  the  air.  Mis  ugly,  sharp 
bill  is  extended,  and  emits  a  hissing  noise,  and  altogether  he  is  a 
very  unpleasant-looking  bird.  For  a  full  minute  we  gaze  at  each 
other,  at  least  one  of  the  two  at  a  loss  what  to  do  next.  It  is  becom- 
ing more  and  more  evident  to  me  that  I  do  not  care  so  much  for  him 
now  as  1  tlid  a  short  time  ago.  We  are  \et  eying  each  other  as  1 
catch  the  sound  of  voices  mingled  with  the  confused  tramp  of  horses, 
and  feel  certain  that  the  plow-boys  are  approaching.  Not  caring  to 
appear  in  a  ridiculous  light,  above  all  others  to  these  men,  I  deter- 
mined to  i)ut  an  end  to  the  scene,  and  accordingly  make  a  quick 
attempt  to  seize  the  crane  by  the  neck.  This  he  successfully  dodges, 
and  in  a  twinkling  wounds  me  in  the  wrist.  Altogether  out  of 
patience,  I  make  a  bold  dart  for  my  gun,  when  to  my  astonishment 
the  irate  crane  gives  pursuit.  At  this  moment  the  farm  hands  come 
45  A 


if 


I  1  ^ 


•ft 
■  I, 

S  8 


.  I   I- 


'>,  I 


jl 

1:  .'1 

1,  m 

11  H' 

*1           1 

\ 

1'      , 

i 

\\' 

! 

b'<i 

I      1 

yio 


Field  Spofts  ill  Minnesota. 


"t! 


! 


'•'i 


I'll;      ^  ■.;t;ii 


Ij*    1 


into  full  view,  and  I  offer  them  the  spectacle  of  the  "  city  hunter,"  as 
they  are  pleased  to  style  me,  running  away  from  a  crane  !  The  rest 
of  the  scene  must  he  imagined.  I  do  not  attempt  a  settlement  with 
the  tormenters,  but  after  finishing  my  enemy  with  a  vengeful  charge 
at  close  range,  return  to  my  blind,  where  I  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knocking  over  three  more  cranes  before  the  summons  to  breakfasi 
comes  booming  over  the  stubble. 

My  companions  hang  up  in  Bill's  cool  cellar  thirty-one  mal- 
lards, mostly  green-heads.  My  adventure  with  the  crane  is  freely 
discussed  over  juicy  crane-steak  sliced  from  the  breast,  which,  to- 
gether with  good  coffee  and  some  of  Mrs.  Wilcox's  best  griddle- 
cakes  smothered  in  cream  and  white  sugar,  constituted  a  breakfast 
heartily  enjoyed  by  all.  After  allowing  me  to  be  well  teased,  our 
host  puts  a  somewhat  more  serious  color  upon  the  matter  by  assur- 
ing us  that  it  was  rather  a  dangerous  proceeding  to  face  a  wounded 
crane,  which,  like  the  heron,  always  strikes  for  the  eye.  Once,  to 
his  knowledge,  the  bill  penetrated  through  the  eye  of  an  Indian,  pro- 
ducing instant  death. 

Twenty-eight  miles  or  more  lie  between  us  and  Kandiyohi, 
where  we  mtend  camping,  and  there  is  no  alternative  but  instai 
departure  after  breakfast.  By  nine  o'clock  we  are  waving  oi.. 
adieus  to  the  Wilco.x  family,  whose  worthy  head  accompanies  us 
as  driver,  friend,  and  companion.  Our  outfit,  none  of  the  smallest, 
is  snugly  stowed  away.  The  day  is  exceedingly  pleasant,  and  the 
entire  party  is  in  the  very  best  of  spirits.  The  rolling  prairie  road 
offers  no  hinderance,  and  we  jog  on  at  a  fair  pace.  The  neat  appear- 
ance of  the  farm-houses  and  their  immediate  surroundings  .shows 
plainly  the  thrift  of  the  owners,  who  are  mostly  Swedes  or  Norwe- 
gians. A  likely  looking  prairie  bordering  a  stubble  causes  us  to  tie 
up  the  duck  retrievers,  Turk  and  Prince,  and  cast  off  Royal  T^an  and 
two  setters ;  this  is  done  with  the  hope  of  finding  a  brood  of  grouse, 
or  (as  they  are  called  in  this  State)  prairie-chickens. 

F"an  led  off  at  a  rounti  pace  and  quartered  her  ground 
thoroughly,    showing    beautiful    style    and    action    with    thorough 

training.      B ,   her   proud   owner,   from   his  seat  in  the  wagon, 

controlled  her  movements  by  the  "call"  and  by  the  motion  of  the 
hand.  I  could  not  help  wishing  that  Macdona  might  see  her  now, 
and  behold  in   her  superb  action   and   style   a  confirmation  of  his 


111   ^-!^  f/ 


/vV'A/  sports  ///  Mimicsota. 


711 


jiicljrmciU  of  luT  on  the  l)t,'nch.  Not  iiuicli  lu-hind  lu-r,  in  cither 
pace  or  style,  were  the  two  hhick-aiul-white  setters,  as  with  heads 
well  up  they  dashed  over  the  prairie- ;  ranj^injf  in  perfect  accord 
with  each  otht:r.  yet  entirely  independent,  they  cast  furti\e  and 
anxious  ^dances  in  I''an's  direction,  evidentl)'  fearful  lest  she  should 
secure  a  "point"  before  them  or  they  lose  an  opportunity  to  "hack." 
Now  I''an  is  slackenin<,f   her  pace,  and   is   investij^atinj^  a  narrow 

strip  of  corn,  whicli  from  nej^lect  has  become  lodj^ed.     V. s  (|uick 

•eye  has  detected  the  presence  of  game  by  die  chanj,nj  in  I'ar's  pace 
and  manner.  The  two  setters  are  down  wind  from  hi:r  about  forty 
yards  distant,  and  are  evidently  scentinj^  tin;  same  birds,  for  they 
come  trottin<f  up  with  their  black  noses  hij^h  in  the  air,  and  with  the 
peculiar  elastic  step  seen  only  under  these  circumstances.  I'"an,  in 
the  meantime,  proceeds  with  more  caution,  the  scent  becoming 
stronger ;  a  moment  or  two  of  suspense  on  our  part  and  the  little 
beauty  comes  to  a  stand.  V\'e  prepare  to  jump  out,  guns  in  hand, 
but  desist  as  she  makes  a  few  steps  in  advance,  every  motion  indica 
ting  her  intense  and  increasing  ex(  iit.'ment.  Presently,  she  is  rigid  ! 
The  setters  have  approached  within  a  few  yards,  and  the  instant  she 
makes  her  final  stand  become  rigid  also,  backing  her  point  stanchly. 
The  trio  form  a  picture  no  sportsman  could  fail  to  regard  with 
pleasure:  b'an  is  erect,  yet  exhibiting  the  characteristic  jjoinl  looked 
for  in  her  species  (not  much  does  it  resemble  in  its  intensity  of  action 
the  vacillation  of  a  "puppy  point");  her  two  companions,  who  seem 
to  have  attained  an  unnatural  length,  appear  to  be  crouching  for  a 
spring,  their  usually  kintl  faces  showing  lines  and  wrinkles  indicative 
of  strong  excitement.  "Are  you  all  ready  .''"  is  H's  (|uesti()n  when 
we  have  ranged  ourselves  in  position  back  of  the  dogs  luen  as  he 
speaks  he  makes  one  step  forward,  and  a  cock  grouse  flushes  before 
him.  He  throws  his  gun  <|uickly  to  his  face;  with  the  sharp  report 
the  bird  drops  into  the  corn,  and  a  long  stream  of  feathers  drift 
down  the  wind,  their  number  showing  his  |jerfect  aim.  l'"an  drops 
to  "wing,"  instantly  followed  by  b'uUer  and  his  mate.  .\  step  for- 
ward by  our  party  and  a  pair  flushing  before;  W gives  him  an 

opportunity  for  a  right-and-left,  which  he  fully  improves.  Still  the 
dogs  maintain  their  recumbent  attitudes,  though  it  is  easy  to  see 
their  growing  impatience.  Another  pair  has  bit  the  dust  in  resjmnse 
to  a  quick   double  from   m\'  gun,  and   poor  J ,  who  seems  to  be 


f 


IV' 


I 


I  .;■ 


v.{.  : 


it 


\p: 


m 

m 
m 


3 


w 

j    V 

m 

;     ' 

1 

I   '■ 

1      '■            ' 

ml 

r 

i)  ' 

f  ■ 

'  1- 

^    1 
(1 

1   . 

-131,; 


!4  . 


I     i 


i     i; 


!'   '  I 


>l 


V 


L    I 


\       i 


Wk 


m 


712 


MeM  Spoyts  in  Minnesota. 


fated,  for  so  far  not  a  bird  has  flushed  to  him,  is  becoming  tired  of 

the  monotony  of  the  thing.     Then    B and  W each  bring 

down    another   bird.     When   B and   W each    bring  down 

another  bird,  his  impatience  finds  vent  in  words:  "This  is  downright 
murder,  gentlemen,"  said  he  ;  "you  don't  give  the  birds  half  a  chance. 
A  man,"  he  added,  "that  could  miss  a  chicken  flushed  in  such  easy 
range  ought  not  to  hunt  in  the  company  of  sportsmen." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking  when  the  old  hen  grouse  of 
the  brood  whirred  up  under  his  very  feet.  Somewhat  startled  there-* 
at,  and  before  she  had  flown  five  yards,  he  fired  all  too  quickly,  scor- 
ing a  clean  miss.  An  exclamation  escaped  him  at  the  result,  and  he 
at  once  sought  her  with  his  second  barrel ;  his  first  had  turned  her  a 
trifle  from  her  course,  and  she  presented  now  a  side-shot  at  thirty 
yards.  Any  one  of  us  could  then  have  cut  her  down  easily,  but  we 
preferred  not  to,  and  stood  with  guns  in  the  position  of  ready,  await- 
ing the  result  of  his  second.  Bang  !  went  the  gun  ;  on  flew  the  bird. 
She  was  now  fairly  ours,  and,  though  fifty  yards  away,  succumbed 
instantly  to  the  closely  blended  triple  report  from  our  pieces. 

Like  a  man,  the  good-natured  fellow  faced  our  music  and,  tak- 
ing off  his  hat,  made  us  three,  who  stood  laughing  heartily,  a  most 
profound  bow,  at  the  same  time  remarking : 

"  I  acknowledge  the  corn :  it  is  not  quite  so  easy  as  it  appears  to 
be,"  although  he  added,  by  way  of  retaliation,  "  I  am  quite  certain 
even  I  could  have  stopped  her  ladyship  with  a  treble  dose ! " 

At  the  word  "Fetch!"  the  eager  dogs  "seek  dead,"  and  in  a 
tv/inkling  come  trotting  proudly  back  each  with  a  bird,  on  being 
relieved  of  which  they  are  again  sent  in  with  a  like  result.  Not 
much  do  these  birds  resemble  the  puny  little  ones  bagged  on  the 
fifteenth  of  August,  for  they  are  full  grown,  hardy  and  strong,  and 
very  swift  of  wing.  No.  7  shot,  backed  by  a  good  charge  of  pow- 
der, has  done  the  work.  September  grouse  seldom  lie  so  close  as 
did  this  brood,  every  one  of  which  lay  safely  bagged  before  us. 

The  three  dogs,  having  had  barely  a  taste  of  sport,  show  much 
unwillingness  to  take  up  again  their  position  back  of  the  wagon;  but 
it  is  now  the  duck  retrievers'  turn,  for  we  are  about  to  enter  a 
section  of  country  thickly  interspersed  with  small  lakes  or  ponds, 
here  called  sloughs  (pronounced  slcivs).  Turk  and  Prince,  having 
work  before  them,  are  set  free,  and  soon  testify  their  appreciation 


'"'UVir 


Field  Sports  in  Minnesota. 


713 


ly.t 


L    if  y    •^t'^ 


---^-r 


<'^^: 


A    SIDE    SHOT. 


by  eccentric  gamliols.  The  two  setters  and  Fan  would  delight  in 
retrieving  ducks,  but  are  not  very  often  indulged  ;  the  example  of 
the  average  "duck  dog."  as  he  dashes  in  at  the  crack  of  the  gun, 
is  apt  to  have  a  demoralizing  effect  upon  the  steadiest  of  pointers 
and  setters,  and  they  are  tempted  to  "break  shot"  at  all  times, 
which  would  be  disastrous  on  almost  any  game  other  than  ducks. 

Mallards,  widgeons,  and  sprig-tails  delight  in  those  small  grassy 
ponds,  which  are  generally  thickly  grown  with  wild  rice,  reeds,  and 
rushes.  A  musk-rat  house  here  and  there  furnishes  sunning  oppor- 
tunities, and  also  enables  them  to  mount  guard.  While  'Jill  is  secur- 
ing his  team  to  a  convenient  fence,  we  are  phmning  an  assault  on 
one  of  these  sloughs,  which  the  little  prairie -knoil  alvad  of  us  hides 
from  our  view.  We  employ  the  usual  tactics.  b\-  surrounding  it. 
each  one  approaching  it  from  a  different  direction  in  deep  silence, 
though  we  are  not  able  from  the  shore  to  discover  a  feather.  When 
every  one  is  posted  in  as  good  cover  as  possible.  Bill,  according  to 
previous  arrangement,  lires  a  random  shot  from  his  "pin-fire"  over 


'■I  I 


V 

111 


f 


i 

i 


U    i 


'     'k> 


il' 


fl 
i 


J  'I 


(". 


IH 


m 


"*♦ 


;!,;l  ti 


7'4 


MeM  Sports    u  Minnesota. 


the  water.  In  an  instant,  with  a  quacking  and  a  terrible  fluttering, 
the  well-concealed  ducks  spring  into  the  air,  and  make  a  break  in 
the  direction  of  one  of  the  large  lakes.     This  will  bring  them  over 

J ,  and  I  watch  them  nearing  the  fatal  stand.     Now  the  barrel 

of  his  J,  .n  points  upward  from  the  clump  of  reeds  in  which  he  is  con- 
cealed, and  two  birds  topple 
over  almost  before  the  double 
report  of  his  piece  has  drifted 
across  the  puddle.  This  re- 
ception has  startled  the  flork, 
and  in  considerable  disorder 
they  turn  only  to  be  met  by  a 

similar  reception  from  W . 

Again  are  they  repulsed  and 
seek  a  new  direction,  which 
brings  them  over  my  stand, 
but  such  a  height  have  they 
'>v^^PBiWI^'^'^v'^>ti*  ' .     '.^-T-^^i  attained    that    only  one   drops 

^''  '       i^lPt^^^  '  dead  to  my  gun.      Hut   liill  is 

BONUKi.  Goni.s  IN  TKANs, T.  ^^^    champlou,    for    he     stops 

three  ducks  with  one  barrel  of 
his    gun,   having  had   time    to   e.xchange    his    finer    shot   for   "  No. 

I."  which  tells  with  good  effect  at  such  long  range.      H alone 

has  not  soiled  his  gun,  but  by  working  the  dogs  has  succeeded  in 
bagging  most  of  the  ducks  killed.  Fuller  and  Occie  are  sent  over 
the  hill  after  those  knocked  down  l)y  Wilcox,  and  we  are  once  more 
on  our  way. 

To  me  there  is  not  much  real  sport  in  this  style  of  shooting, 
though  the  game  is  large  and  fine  ;  it  lacks  the  excitement  of  tlie 
"pass"  shooting,  and  many  birds  art;  lost  by  falling  into  the  matted 
reeds  and  grass,  where  the  dogs  have  great  trouble  finding  them  ; 
the  incessant  popping  of  the  guns  also  has  a  tendency  to  divert  their 
attention  from  the  careful  search  necessary  to  find  skulking  wounded 
ducks.  These  sloughs  t)r  |)onds  occur  very  frequently  upon  the  St. 
l*aul  and  Pacific  and  .Sioux  City  and  St.  Paul  railroads,  and  under 
propiT  guidance  a  party  of  four  or  five  will  take  heavy  tribute  from 
each  as  they  go  along.  I'\)r  this  kind  of  shooting,  a  Hond  boat  offers 
superior  advantages  :   composed  of  sheet-iron  sides  and   a  wooden 


It'...:  I 


r  \'y 


■flCTH 


Field  sports  in  Minnesota. 


7«5 


A   "HdND       IN    WKI     WKATllKK. 


bottom,  it  is  made  in  two  water-tight  compartriKMits,  besides  an  air- 
chamber,  to  prevent  sinking  in  case  of  an  upset ;  it  is  of  trifling 
weight,  and  easily  transported.  Two  sportsmen,  by  each  shoulder- 
ing one-half  of  the  boat,  can  mak(;  portage  after  portage,  shooting 
out  one  pond  and  then  carrying  to  another,  no  great  distance  ever 
intervening.  These  boats  in  transit  upon  a  liunt(;r's  back  have  a 
most  ludicrous  aspect,  and  dull  indeed  must  be  he  who  cannot 
extract  much  humor  out  of  the  novel  spectacle.  .Should  a  rain- 
storm arise,  one  of  the  compartmcMits  of  the  boat  set  u|)  on  end 
makes  a  very  good  shelter.  The  inadvertent  kicking  awa)'  of  the 
sup|>orting  paddl<j  to  your  novel  roof  will  certainly  justify  the  laugh 
sure  to  be  indulged  in  by  your  more  careful  companion  ;  ijut,  unlike 
the  turtle  which  you  .so  closely  resemble  as  you  look  out  from  under 
your  temporary  shell,  you  am  crawl  out  of  it. 

It  was  (juite  late,  with  fretpient  stop|Hng  on  our  route  from  one 
cause  or  another,  when  our  destination  was  reached.  We  were;  well 
used  to  camping-out,  and  our  tent  was  very  soon  in  position  and  in 
readiness  for  the  straw  bedding  hauled  from  a  neighboring  stack. 
This  was  at  once  stuffed  into  a  wide,  emjjt)-  tick,  brought  along  for 


V,' 


n. 


" 


n 


i   p  • 


9 

'  r*- 

i| 

i>" 

: 
I 

1    i 

:    i 

mi 


;ij, 


} 


m  •! 


.!    :     '■  ■!■ 


P!     ''M 


>      i  ; 


716 


FieM  Sports  in  Minnesota. 


■i      \ 


that  purpose,  and  we  had  a  bed  fit  for  a  kinjr,  and  one  on  which  no 
tired  hunter  can  long  remain  awake. 

A  coach  candle  in  an  improvised  socket,  fastened  to  the  inside  of 
the  tent-pole,  sufficiently  illuminated  the  interior,  and  enabled  us  to 
get  in  readiness  for  the  morning's  work.  "Chicken  shells"  were 
taken  out,  and  suitable  ones  for  duck-shooting  substituted ;  no  one 
forgetting  to  place  a  few  loaded  with  "  dbl.  B"  shot  in  a  certain 
pocket  of  the  Holabird  shooting-coat ;  these  last  for  a  stray  goose 
or  two  which  has  been  known  to  fly  over  this  pass  more  than  once, 
in  the  memory  of  our  mess. 

Such  an  inviting  bed  as  we  had  before  us  could  not  long  remain 
untried,  and  one  by  one  our  party  turned  in.  The  full  moon  flooded 
our  tent  with  a  subdued  light  and  brightly  illuminated  our  surround- 
ings. Through  the  tent-openings  could  be  seen  one  arm  of  Little 
Kandiyohi  and  the  two  peninsulas,  joined  by  a  rickety  bridge  of 
hewn  timber,  which  formed  this  well-known  pass,  and  over  which 
we  are  to  have  a  "flight"  in  the  morning  twilight. 

I  am  quite  certain  that  I  have  not  been  unconscious  for  more 
than  fifteen  minutes,  when  I  am  rudely  awakened  by  a  severe  thump 
in  the  side,  which  I  am  half  inclined  to  return  with  interest,  until  I 
see  that  my  friends  are  up  and  dressed.  The  candle  is  burning, 
and  a  bright  fire  roars  and  crackles  in  the  stove,  diffusing  an  agree- 
able warmth  throughout  the  tent. 

All  of  us  are  decidedly  sleepy,  and  we  should  perhaps  be  still  in 
bed,  were  our  inclinations  strictly  followed,  and  we  show  less  impa- 
tience to  face  the  keen  morning  air  than  do  our  dogs,  whom  Bill  has 
set  free  on  his  way  to  feed  the  team.  The  moon  has  long  since  dis- 
appeared, and  inky  darkness  has  succeeded,  and  we  feel  our  way 
along  as  we  go  down  to  our  stands  upon  the  peninsula.  The  air, 
for  a  September  morning,  is  quite  chilly,  and  in  spite  of  the  cup  of 
hot  coffee  and  plenty  of  wrappings,  I  am  soon  all  of  a  tremble,  and 
cannot  help  contrasting  this  with  the  warm  and  cozy  bed  out  of 
which  we  had  latel)-  crept.  I  feel  much  pity  for  my  two  faithful 
dogs,  who  are  lying  crouched  at  my  feet,  impatient  for  the  word  to 
plunge  into  the  dark  and  chilly  current  for  a  duck.  Some  are 
already  passing  over,  as  we  know  by  the  sound  of  wings  swiftly 
cutting  the  air.  By  rubbing  the  phosphorus  of  a  match,  the  dial  of 
my  watch  is  rendered  visible,  and  it  is  some  satisfaction  to  know  that 


! : '  ■ ! 


4' 


^ 


Field  sports  in  Minuesota. 


717 


A    COI.U    MORNING. 


it  is  nearly  five  o  clock  and  dawn  is  at  hand.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
shall  be  able  to  discern  objects  overhead,  and  by  exercising  skill  and 
judgment,  or  "bull-head  luck,"  as  an  old  veteran  of  the  pass  calls  it, 
a  little  execution  may  be  done. 

I  now  proceed  to  take  off  my  gloves  and  my  "gum  coat,"  which 
had  been  donned  for  warmth,  and  to  fill  the  pockets  of  my  "  Hola- 
bird"  with  shells,  which  are  in  this  instance  loaded  with  five  drams 
of  Dupont's  ducking  powder,  and  one  and  a  ([uarter  ounces  of 
No.  6  shot,  for  the  early  flight.  .Shells  loaded  with  Nos.  4  and  5 
shot  are  used  later  in  the  day,  when  the  ducks  begin  to  "climb" 
as  they  cross.  The  icy-cold  gun-barrels  strike  a  chill  to  my 
bare  hands,  but  my  pulse  has  gained  a  number  ot  beats  in  the 
last  few  minutes,  a  pleasant  thrill  of  excitement  pervades  me,  and  I 
am  fast  warming  up  to  the  work.  Standing  in  a  regular  skirmish 
line,  about  thirty  yards  apart,  in  the  position  of  "ready,"  with  guns 
in  hand,  and  both  the  hammers  raised,  we  strain  our  eyes  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  game  that  is  streaming  over,  but  tin:  veil  ot  darkness 
prevents  our  seeing.  Who  will  draw  first  blood  ?  More  than  once 
have  our  guns  been  quickly  thrown  to  our  faces  and  our  fingers 
rested  on  the  triggers,  but  none  of  us  has  accjuired  the  art  of  shoot- 
ing "  by  ear,"  and  slowly  and  reluctantly  we  lower  them  again.     Hut 


li.ij 


(    ^H 


p: 

1 

!r    ■ 

' 

; 

'                            i 

k  ^ 

1':^ 

! 

i^ 

; 

. 

1 
1 

■ 

!  i   '  ! 


r  1 ; 

I'  '     ^ 

i  J  ■    ^ 

%      , 

111''' 

miih 

718 


Fi'eM  spores  in  Minnesota. 


now  from  our  junior's  stand  a  blinding  flash  shoots  up  into  the  air  at 
an  acute  angle,  accompanied  by  a  deafening  crash,  which  rolls  like  a 
burst  of  thunder  along  the  surface  of  the  lake,  until  it  is  echoed  back 
by  the  heavy  belt  of  timber  in  a  faint  but  perfect  imitation.  The 
sound  that  interests  us  most,  however,  is  the  plunge  of  the  retrievers 
into  the  lake  and  the  splashing  in  front  of  my  friend's  blind  as  one 
or  more  victims  flutter  upon  the  surface  of  the  water. 

A  bunch  of  four  or  five  swiftly  moving,  shadowy  objects  now 
draw  my  fire,   and  before  the  echo  of   my  double   shot    has  fairly 

died  away,  J and  VV have  each  made  their  first  shots  of  the 

morning,  and  with  good  effect.  Prince  is  now  climbing  the  bank 
close  by  with  a  fine  drake  canvas-back,  one  of  the  two  killed  by 
the  first  gun  of  the  morning.  My  two  setters  are  swimming  a 
race  neck  and  neck  for  first  choice  on  a  pair  that  fell  to  my  fire. 
As  for  Turk,  he  is  absolutely  diving  for  a  wounded  duck  which 
has  so  far  managed  to  elude  his  gaping  jaws.  At  each  fresh 
failure  to  secure  it,  Turk  gives  a  yelp  of  rage,  but  finally  manages 
to  seize  the  duck  by  one  wing  and  makes  for  the  shore.  The 
slight  hold  he  has  obtained  allows  the  duck  to  flutter  vigorously, 
filling  its  captor's  eyes  with  water,  much  to  his  disgust. 

But  the  sport  in  the  air  eclipses  in    interest   that   in   the  lake, 

and  at  W 's  sharp  "  Mark  !  east !  !  "  every  one  goes  down  behind 

his  blind,  out  of  sight  of  an  approaching  flock  of  red-heads.  They 
come  on,  unconscious  of  impending  trouble,  not  over  two  yards 
above  the  surface  of  the  water.  Their  first  hint  of  danger  is  taken 
from  seeing  the  dogs,  which  are  swimming  for  shore,  and  they 
make  an  extraordinary  effort  to  mount  high  in  the  air.  This  gives 
us  a  splendid  opportunity,  for  from  our  point  of  sight  they  appear 
to  stand  still,  and  a  volley  at  this  instant  gives  the  dogs  more 
work  to  do.  Our  second  barrels  are  put  in  with  telling  effect, 
and  the  badly  demoralized  flock  now  presents  a  far  different  appear- 
ance from  that  of  a  few  moments  before.  The  Bond  boat  is  now 
used  to  recover  the  birds  that  fell  on  the  west  side  of  the  penin- 
sula, and  that  would  drift  away  before  the  dogs  could  attend  to 
them. 

A  momentary  lull  in  the  flight  gives  an  opportunity  to  look 
about  us  and  count  our  spoils.  My  friends  have  seventeen  ducks 
between  them,  while  my  own  string  shows  six — three  canvas-backs, 


I 


liKtl 


Field  sports  in  Minnesota. 


719 


ill] 


5'i 


»«: 


^^! 


THE    BRinCE    STAND. 


all  drakes  but  one,  two  red-heads,  and  a  widgeon  —  not  very  bad 
luck,  certainly,  and  the  flight  is  not  half  over. 

The  canvas-backs  are  handled  with  a  degree  of  satisfaction  that 
even  the  green-head  and  more  gaudy  mallard  fail  to  inspire.  To 
use  the  words  of  the  lamented  "Frank  Forrester":  "This  is  the 
royalty  of  ducks.  No  other  water-fowl  to  him  is  equal,  or  second, 
or  in  any  way  comparable."  While  it  is  not  unusual  for  a  novice 
to  mistake  the  red-head  for  the  canvas-back,  which  it  is  true  they 
resemble,  the  difference  is  yet  quite  marked.  The  attention  once 
carefully  drawn  to  the  head  of  the  latter,  no  red-head  can  ever  again 
be  mistaken  for  it.  Aside  from  the  color  of  the  bill,  which  in  the 
case  of  the  latter  is  light  blue  and  in  the  other  black,  the  length 
and  shape  of  both  head  and  bill  differ  greatly. 

.Suddenly  we  hear  the  steady  honking  of  an  approaching  flock 
of  wild  geese,  which  have  left  Kandiyohi  Lake,  and  are  flying 
up  the  narrows  toward  us  on  their  way  to  the  fields.  A  bird's- 
eye  view  of  our  party  at  this  moment  would  have  been  most 
amusing,  for  every  one  of  us  seemed  struck  with  a  sudden  and 
ardent  desire  to  lay  hands  on  something,  and  that  in  a  most  incredibly 


'  I  ri; 


tH 


V. 


'1  :; 


H 


■  )!' 


i 


%s 


pr 


r, ' 


720 


J^ye/i/  spores  in  Minnesota. 


f  1        r. 


L||ll'! 


1 


I  \ 


.fill  I 


short  space  of  time.  Each  of  us  had  one  or  more  shells  for  just 
such  an  emergency  as  the  present.  To  find  and  substitute  these 
shells  tjuickly,  and  without  alarming  the  rapidly  approaching  geese, 
is  the  occasion  of  our  frantic  efforts.  Those  of  us  who  had  started 
out  that  cool  morning  enveloped  in  at  least  three  coats  apiece,  and 
had  laid  them  aside  from  time  to  time  in  as  many  different  places, 

were  in  trouble  indeed.     W had  left  his  goose  ammunition  in 

his  shell-pouch  by  the  blind,  but  having  walked  away  a  few  rods 
while  his  dog  was  pilfering  my  ducks,  he  was  now  making  for 
the  coveted  shells  on  all  fours,  so  as  not  to  be  visible,  with  a 
celerity  that  would  have  astonished  the  many  friends  of  this  usually 
dignified  gentleman. 

Three  of  the  huge  birds  are  now  heading  for  my  blind,  and 
the  rest  of  the  flock  veer  off  in  the  direction  of  my  comrades. 
My  two  expectant  setters  are  already  crouching  for  a  spring, 
when  the  shell,  which  I  have  with  some  difficulty  found,  and 
which  I  am  placing  with  some  nervous  trepidation  into  the 
opened    breech    of    my    gun,    begins    to    stick ;    in    the    haste   and 

excitement,  I  bear  hard  upon  it, 
but  it  does  not  budge  a  particle. 
I  then  attempt  to  extract  the 
shell ;  but  no,  it  sticks  as  if  it 
had  always  been  there.  Though 
I  struggle  like  a  madman  in  my 
efforts  to  dislodge  it,  I  can  make 
no  impression,  and  have  the 
mortification  of  beholding  the 
geese  sail  over  a  rod  or  two 
above  me,  near  enough,  in  fact, 
to  have  used  even  my  No.  6 
shot  with  deadly  effect.  "  Hang  ! 
bang!"  comes  a  volley  from  my 
right,  and  two  of  the  "old  honk- 
ers" tumble  headlong  into  the 
lake,  displacingat  least  a  barrel  of 
water  as  they  strike  the  surface. 
V,  I,  ,,Vi^,iV,    '    ?  » '    ■     //  rhe  main  flight  having  passed 

A  TIGHT  SHELL.  ovcr,    aud    out     of     which     we 


'1     I 


Field  Sports  in  Minnesota. 


721 


i^\ 


■  -^iaa*: 


have  taken  fair  toll,  we  are 
favored  with  more  "  singles " 
than  flocks ;  the  shooting  is 
consequently  more  interesting, 
because  more  difificult.  Clean 
misses  at  these  swift-flying 
birds  are  frequent.  It  seems 
at  times"  next  to  an  impossibility 
to  swing  the  gun  rapidly  enough 
to  cover  and  avoid  shooting 
behind.  .Shooting  into  flocks 
"for  general  results,"  without 
singling  out  a  bird,  may  be 
excusable  in  a  Sunday  "pot- 
hunter," or  in  a  novice  anxious 
to  give  a  new  Scott,  Purdy,  or 
Parker  a  good  airing  ;  but  in  a 
true  sportsman  —  never.  High 
or  long  shots  should  seldom  be 
attempted  here,  as  misses  be- 
yond fifty  or  sixty  yards  are 
common,  and  scores  of  birds  are 
struck  whose  wounds  prove 
fatal  only  after  long  suffering. 
Side  .shots  are  most  deadly;  but  proper  allowance  must  be  made 
for  distance  and  speed  of  flight.  Opportunities  for  double  shots 
occur  continually,  and  to  make  them  it  is  often  necessary  to  use  the 
first  barrel  of  the  gun  on  an  incoming  bird,  and  the  second  will 
then,  in  all  probability,  be  a  side  or  quartering  shot. 

To  stop  an  "  incomer,"  raise  the  gun  carefully  in  the  line  of  his 
flight ;  move  quickly  ahead  of  the  duck,  when  you  judge  him  to  be 
in  range ;  and,  when  you  lose  sight  of  head  and  bill  over  your  gun, 
pull  instantly.  The  flight  of  a  duck  is  ordinarily  at  the  rate  of  about 
sixty  miles  an  hour ;  but  when  accelerated  b)'  fear,  or  a  brisk  wind, 
or  both,  it  is  nearly  double,  and  must  be  experimented  upon  to  be 
fully  appreciated.  To  become  a  good  "pass  shot,"  some  of  the 
requisites  are  :  to  be  able  to  judge  distances  quickly  and  accurately; 
to  be  able  to  cover  well  the  moving  bird,  and  not  to  check  the  motion 
46 


STOIM'INO    AN    INCOMKR. 


m§ 


: 


ft;- 


i  '■ 


1,     I'i 


] 


481 
S', 


i\    I 


- 


722 


Field  sports  in  Minnesota. 


1 


I-! 


>•:) 


i        ■■ 


i:  1 


I    ^ 


:  i 


GOOSK-IIKCOYS. 


of  the  gun  at  the  moment  of  discharge.  Most  sportsmen  flinch 
at  that  supreme  moment,  and  unless  the  habit  is  entirely  overcome, 
they  cannot  expect  ever  to  become  good  wing  shots.  The  "choke- 
boring"  of  guns,  in  limited  use  long  ago,  has  only  very  recently 
come   into  favor  and  rather  more  general  use.      Upon  the  pass  or 

elsewhere,  it  adds  at  least  one- 
fourth  more  distance  to  the  kill- 
ing range  of  the  gun.  'This  is 
done  by  the  effect  it  has  upon 
the  "pattern"  made  by  the  shot, 
causing  the  gun  to  throw  a 
greater  number  of  shot  pellets 
into  a  given  circle  than  can  be 
done  by  the  cylinder  or  straight 
bore.  One  barrel  of  the  duck- 
hunter's  gun  should  surely  be 
bored  in  this  way. 

Kandiyohi  was  once  famous 
for  its  black-duck  flights;  but  of  late  they  seem  to  have  abandoned 
it,  and  more  mallards,  red-heads,  and  canvas-backs  are  found  here. 
Vallisneria,  often  miscalled  wild  celery  (I  say  miscalled,  because  it 
bears  no  resemblance  in  taste  to  the  common  celery),  is  beginning 
to  grow  thickly  in  places,  in  addition  to  the  wild  rice,  and  may 
account  for  this  fact. 

It  was  in  this  vicinity  that  the  pair  of  canvas-backs  were  killed 
by  that  veteran  sportsman,  General  H.  H.  Sibley, — well  known  to 
the  readers  of  the  old  "  Spirit  of  the  Times  '  under  the  nam  dc  plume 
of  "  Hal-a-Dakotah," — and  ')y  him  sent  to  his  friend  "Frank 
Forrester,"  thereby  settling  a  controversy  between  the  two  gentle- 
men, and  proving  conclusively  —  what  Forrester  had  before  denied 
— that  the  true  Vallisneria  is  found  away  from  the  sea-coast. 

To  have  anything  like  sport  in  the  pursuit  of  the  common  wild 
goose  (Bcrnicla  Canadensis),  the  ordinary  methods  of  hunting 
water-fowl  hardly  answer  here ;  besides,  the  lakes  they  frequent  are 
not  large  enough  to  justify  the  use  of  the  bay-shooting  tactics  from 
sink-boats,  and  from  blinds  near  the  water.  These  birds  are  exceed- 
ingly wary  when  upon  the  fields,  and  are  very  seldom  bagged  by 
stalking.     In  their  watchfulness  they  have  but  one  rival,  and  he  an 


¥.:  I 


}m 


Field  sports  in  Minnesota. 


723 


^"^L  ^ 


.^I^Mi-sm^ 


GO0SE-SH0OriN(J      FROM    STUBBLE. 


effective  ally,  in  the  sand-hill  crane,  which  often  feeds  in  their  midst, 
thus  addinjj;'  to  the  difficulty  of  a])|iroach  within  effective  ran^e.  The 
difficult  problem  of  their  successful  capture  was  at  last  solved  for  us 
by  Colonel  Sam  I)oui,dity,  of  Lake  City.  Minn.,  who  introduced 
shootinj^  over  decoys  from  pits  dug  in  the  stubble  or  nt;w  breaking, 
where  it  has  been  ascertained  geese  are  in  the  habit  of  feeding.  The 
decoys  are  of  the  simplc'St  construction  and  greatest  portability,  being 
merely  flat  forms  in  good  outline  painted  in  imitation  of  the  wild 
goose ;  these,  w  hen  seen  at  right  angles  to  their  fiat  surfaces,  at 
ordinary  shot-gun  range  and  beyond,  are  well  calculated  to  deceive 
not  alone  his  gooseshij)  but  even  amateur  sportsmen.* 

Two  flights  a  day  are  made  by  the  geese  from  the  large  lakes  in 
search  of  food  ;  one  taking  place  at  daybreak  in  the  morning  and. 
lasting  perhaps  an  hour,  and  the  other  at  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, occupying  about  the  same  length  of  time.  On  these  flights 
they  are  often  accompanied  by  the  snow-goose  ( Aitscr  Itypcyborciis } 
and  the  white-fronted  ):[^oosit  ( .-l user  (ianilk'/ii ),  which  are  here  called 
respectively    white    and    black    brant,    though    they    do    not    much 

*  Ex-Clovernor  A will  never  forget  how  natural  was  the  look  of  Major  C 's 

decoys  on  that  memorable  day  near  Kirkhoven.  when,  after  crawling  a  long  distance, 
he  em))tie(l  his  gun  in  riddling  them.  They  ha<l  been  left  after  the  early  morning  flight 
by  their  owner,  who  witnessed  the  incident  from  afar. 


I :  I 


I  ; 


i! 

il  .1 


\4,x 


V 


^'ii 


.  ' 


h1\ 


724 


Pi'e/c/  Spoyts  in  Miniicsotu, 


miTCIIINSS    OOOSK — 
CANADA      r.OOSK    — 
WIIITK-I  HON  I  l;il  OK 
I.Al'CIIIM.  <;()n,s 
SNOW    IJIIOSE, 


resemble;  the;  true  brant  of  the  sea-coast  ( Bmnta  hcui'uia  )*  which 
may  be  found  occasionally  in  the  midst  of  flocks  of  the  other  kinds, 
yet  are  by  no  means  common. 

From  about  the  latitude  of  Kandiyohi  County  to  the  Red  River 
of  the  north,  the  different  species  of  the  wild  i^oose  hold  hitjh  revel 
and,  upon  the  approach  of  the  cold  weather,  may  be  seen  in  count- 
less thousands  massiny^  for  the  southern  fli<,dit.  An  early  morning 
drive  along  the  wheat-fields  which  they  frequent  will  disclose  them 
feeding  either  upon  stubble  or  breaking.  They  must  be  allowed  to 
depart  not  only  unmolested,  but  of  their  own  accord,  when  an  exam- 
ination of  the  feeding-ground  is  carefully  made,  and  the  pits  may 
then  at  once  be  sunk.  If  there  are  two  shooters,  as  many  pits  are 
necessary,  and  they  are  best  circular  in  form,  about  thirty  inches  iii 
diameter  and  forty  inches  in  depth.  The  earth  of  the  exca  ation 
may  be  partially  utilized  in  constructing  a  slight  emban'  .,  umd 

the  edges  of  the  pit.     The  surface  of  the  soil  about  tl  openings 

must  be  manipulated  until  it  accords  in  appearance  uj  the  natural 
surroundings.  The  pits  ma\- be  near  enough  to  permit  of  a  \  his- 
pered  conversation  between  the  occupants  when    the  game  1,  ap- 

•  Branta  hcriUcla  (Linn.)  on  the  Pacific  coast  is  tlie  variety  nigrkans. 


.1.,  .i«||. 


H 


w 


Fichi  sports  in  Miiiiicsofa. 


725 


proaching.  The  decoys,  to  the  nmnl)cr  of  a  cloztMi  or  more,  heinj^ 
flat,  must  l)e  placed  at  such  angles  that  when  viewed  from  any  point 
of  the  compass  a  k'.\\  apparently  soHd  j^eese  are  seen. 

Iii  the  air,  with  no  interveninj^^  ohjiul  to  correct  the  eye,  jjfcese 
app(;ar  very  lar^^^e,  and  conseipiently  nearer  than  they  actually  are, 
and  one  is  exposed  to  tlu;  temptation  of  rMMn^"^  too  soon  ;  tlureforc,'. 
the  hole  shouUI  be  "  worked  "  by  a  veteran  at  the  business,  wlio  will 
commanil  "  I'ire  !  "  in  ihir  time. 

Uniler  the  i^uidance  of  our  junior,  H ,   an  old  hand  at  this 

kind  of  work,  our  party  I'ajj^^id.  in  four  times  "settinij"  out,  twenty- 
one  Canada,  four  whiti'-fronted  and  three  snow  j^eese. 

The  decoy-ilucks  wen;  put  to  j,food  use  in  the  lakes  about  our 
camp,  and  as  the  best  of  decoy  shootin^^  bej^ins  here  after  eijrht 
o'clock  in  the  morninj^,  and  ends  near  three  in  the  afternoon,  no  time 
is  lost  that  could  be  better  employed  on  the  pass  or  on  the  stubble. 
There  is  a  satisfaction  in  shootinjr  over  decoys  that  is  not  found  in 
any  other  style  of  shootinjr,  since  by  the  e.xercise  of  judjrment  in 
placing  the  decoys  and  boat,  the  ducks  may  be  forced  to  present 
whatever  kind  of  shots  you  most  desire. 

Our  bag  for  the  week's  trip  was :  Geese,  thirty-one ;  cranes, 
five ;  pinnated  grouse,  fourteen  ;  canvas-backs,  seventeen  ;  mallards 
and  other  ducks,  one  hundred  and  ten ;  Wilson's  snipe  and  golden 
plover,  twenty-eight. 


!t| 


\ ' 


I  'l( 


n 


i^   ! 


W 


I  111; 

V 
'1  '< 


46A 


CANVAS-BACK  AND  TERRAPIN. 


By    W.    MACKAY    JwVFFAN. 


THE  Chesapeake  has  conferred  upon  Baltimore  the  title  of  the 
"gastronomic  capital"  of  the  country.  The  fish,  the  game, 
and  the  reptiles  of  its  generous  waters,  and  the  traditions  of 
the  Maryland  kitchen,  have  made  Baltimore  a  Mecca  toward  which 
the  eyes  of  all  American  bon-vivants  are  turned  vvith  a  veneration 
that  dyspepsia  cannot  impair.  Places  have  their  dishes  and  exult  in 
them  New  England  points  with  pride  to  an  unsullied  record  of 
pumpkin-pies.  New  Orleans  has  its  pompano,  and  boasts  it  much 
as  Greenwich  does  its  white-bait.  !n  San  Francisco,  you  win  the 
confidence  of  the  Californian  by  praising  his  little  coppery  oysters 
and  saying  that  they  remind  you  of  "Ostend  penn'orths"  or  Dublin's 
Buri.on-Bindins,  and  that,  after  all,  th-e  true  taste  of  the  "natives"  is 
only  acquired  in  waters  where  there  is  an  excess  of  copper  in  sus- 
pension. At  Norfolk,  the  sacred  dish  that  is  offered  upon  the  altar 
of  hospitality  is  the  hog-fish.  The  modest  New  Yorker,  in  the 
acerbity  of  the  lenten  season,  asks  his  foreign  friend  if  ht:  ever  saw 
anything  like  "our  shad."  In  Albany,  you  partake  of  "beef"  sliced 
from  a  Hudson  River  sturgeon, — a  fish  of  which  cudets  from  tiie 
shoulders  are  served  in  San  Francisco  to  excellent  purpose  as  filets 
de  sole  Chicago  has  been  heard  to  speak  of  white-fish.  In  Cal- 
cutta one  inwardly  consumes  with  curry.  Bird's-nest  soup,  made 
from  the  gelatinous  and  insipid  secretion  of  the  sea-swallow,  is  the 
dish  of  honor  at  Shanghai.  But  Baltimore  rests  not  its  reputation 
upon  the  precarious  tenure  of  a  single  dish  ;  it  sits  in  complacent 
contemplation  of  the  unrivaled  variety  of  its  local  market  and  calmly 
forbids  comparison.     While  the  Che:.apeake  continues  to  give  it  its 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


727 


terrapins,  its  canvas-backs,  its  oysters  and  its  fish,  this  may  be  done 
with  safety ;  and  among  the  pleasantest  recollections  that  a  stranger 
may  have  shall  be  those  of  a  Maryland  kitchen  in  the  "season." 
Visitors  from  the  mother-country  seldom  overlook  it,  and  they  have 


AT    THE    CI.UB    IN    COLONIAL    DAYS. 


recorded  their  sentiments  ever  since  the  old  colonial  days.  In  these 
days  of  rapid  transit,  it  were  strange  if  our  tran.satlantic  cousins  did 
not  know  more  about  it ;  and  Liverpool  receives  many  a  crate  of 
canvas-backs,  many  a  barrel  of  choice  oysti  rs,  and  many  a  can  of 
terrapin,  cunningly  packed  in  Haltimore.  There  have  recently  been 
dinners  given  in  London  and  Paris  at  which  every  article  of  food 
upon  the  table  came  from  America. 

The  shores  within  reach  of  Baltimore  are  of  considerable  e.xtent 
and  are  for  the  most  part  owned  by  wealthy  citizciis.  In  winter 
they  are  known  as  "ducking-shores,"  in  summer  as  "fishing-shores." 
Seme  are  leased  to  "clubs,"  just  as  trout  and  salmon  rivers  are  in 
England  and  Scotland  and  Norway,  but  a  majorit\  are  private  prop- 
erty and  are  carefull)'  guarded.  Tlu;  ducks  of  the  Chesapeake  are 
the  same  birds  that  are  seen  in   Hudson's  Bay  and  on  the  northern 


ill 


ii' t 


\  'i 


'! 


lit' 
,11 

i 


'}  h 


728 


Canvas- Back  and  Terrapin. 


I   1 


r  ; 


DIVING    FOR    CEL- 
ERY.—I. 


lakes.  They  follow  the  edge  of  the  winter  along  the  Atlantic  coast, 
and  the  water  they  prefer  to  feed  in  is  that  in  which  ice  is  about  to 
form  or  from  which  it  has  just  disappeared.  Nowhere  are  they  so 
good  for  the  table  as  in  the  Chesapeake.  Elsewhere 
they  are  tough  or  fishy ;  but  the  great  vegetable  beds 
of  its  shallows,  and  the  quantity  of  wild  celery  that 
they  contain,  impart  to  their  flesh  its  greatest  delicacy 
and  best  flavor.  In  the  matter  of  variety,  they  are 
known  as  canvas-backs,  red-heads,  bald-pates,  black- 
heads and  mallards.  There  are  numbers  of  smaller 
ducks  with  arbitrary  names  depending  apparently 
very  much  upon  the  locality  and  its  peculiar  ornithological  bent.  In 
the  way  of  larger  birds  there  a'"e  swans  and  geese.  Their  numbers 
are  inconceivable,  but  they  are  very  wild  and  hard  to  approach. 
Both,  for  the  table,  are  as  fine  in  their  way  as  any  game  bird  that  flies. 

There  are  various  ways  of  shooting 
the  ducks  of  the  Chesapeake  and  its 
broad  affluent,  the  Susquehanna.  Gen- 
tlemen for  the  most  part  shoot  from 
"blinds"  and  use  decoys;  while  mar- 
ket gunners  use  the  "sink-boat"  or 
the  "night  reflector."  "Blinds"  are 
any  sort  of  artificial  concealment  placed  at  an  advantageous  point 
upon  the  shore.  They  generally  consist  of  a  seat  in  a  sort  of  box, 
or  shelter,  some  four  feet  deep,  and  capable  of  containing  three  or 
four  persons  and  a  couple  of  dogs.  They  are  thoroughly  covered 
up  with  pine  branches  and  young  pine-trees  and  communicate  with 
the  shore  by  a  path  similarly  sheltered.  The  water  in  front  is  com- 
paratively shallow,  and,  if  it  contain  beds  of  wild  celery  on  the 
bottom,  is  sure  to  be  a  feeding-ground  for  the  ducks  About  thirty 
yards  from  the  "  blind  "  are  anchored  a  fleet  of  perhaps  a  hundred 
and  fifty  decoys.  They  are  wooden  ducks  roughly  carved  and 
painted,  but  devised  with  a  strict  regard  for  variety  and  sex.  At  a 
little  distance  they  are  calculated  to  deceive  any  eye,  and  they  cer- 
tainly have  a  great  deal  of  weight  in  determining  the  action  of  a 
passing  flock,  or  "bunch,"  of  ducks.  The  sink-boat  is  in  reality  a 
floating  blind.  It  is  nothing  more  than  an  anchored  box,  or  coffin, 
with  hinged  flaps  to  keep  the  water  from  invading  it.     The  gunner 


DIVING    FOR    CKI.KRV. 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


729 


THE    NEFARIOUS    POT-HUNTER. 


lies  on  his  back  in  it,  completely  out  of  sight,  and  around  it  are 
placed  the  decoys.  It  is  extremely  tiresome  work,  but  very  destruc- 
tive to  the  birds.  They  float  down  the  stream  when  shot  and  are 
picked  up  from  a  boat  stationed  below.  It  is  a  wholesale  murdering 
sort  of  thing  and  has  little  "sport"  about  it.  The  "night  reflector" 
is  quite  as  bad.  It  consists  of  a  large  reflector  behind  a  common 
naphtha  lamp  and  mounted  upon  the  bow  of  a  boat.  The  latter  is 
rowed  out  into  the  stream,  where  the  ducks  are  "bedded"  for  the 
night,  and  the  birds,  fascinated  by  the  light,  swim  to  it  from  every 
side  and  bob  against  the  boat  in  helpless  confusion.  The  number 
of  birds  secured  depends  only  on  the  caliber  of  the  gun.  From 
twenty  to  thirty  ducks  to  each  shot  fired  is  a  common  experience. 
The  hunter  who  uses  one  of  these  reflectors  may  succeed  in  getting 
into  half  a  dozen  "beds"  in  a  night.  Another  thing  he  sometimes 
succeeds  in  is  getting  a  charge  of  shot  in  his  body  from  soiue  indig- 
nant sportsman  on  shore.  If  a  rifle  is  handy  and  any  one  chances 
to  be  up  and  about  at  the  hour,  no  hesitation  is  felt  at  having  a 
crack  at  the  "pot-hunter's"  nefarious  light. 

Accepting  an  invitation  for  a  day's  duck-shooting  at  H.'s  gave 


■% 


\% 


\^m\ 


■I 

I 


'Mm 

m 


i'i  >- 


In 


1 

fl 

H 

Ik-'  1 

ILh  .  I 

11 

f 

i 

f\ 

■ 

1 

730 


Canvas-Back  and  Terrapin. 


OUR    QUAKTEKS. 


'I  i 


me  a  personal  experience  of  one  of  the  best  "shores"  in  Maryland. 
Seated  in  a  good,  serviceable  wagon,  our  party  of  three  left  Balti- 
more in  the  afternoon,  and  a  brisk  trot  of  two  hours  and  a  half 
over  roads  for  the  most  part  in  excellent  condition  brought  us  to 
the  ducking-shore  on  Bush  River.  The  last  mile  or  so  was  through 
the  "woods"  over  a  comparatively  new  road  with  water  on  each  side 
of  it,  the  surrounding  ground  being  evidently  in  a  marshy  condition. 
The  undergrowth  was  very  thick  and  )'oung,  as  if  it  were  taking  the 
place  of  a  forest  recently  destroyed  by  fire.  There  were,  however, 
plenty  of  tall  gum-trees,  chestnuts,  and  pines,  and  it  was,  as  B.  enthu- 
siastically described  it,  while  pointing  to  the  track  of  an  animal  in 
the  road,  a  splendid  spot  for  'coons  and  'possums.  We  drew  out 
shortly  into  a  clearing,  on  the  other  side  of  which  was  a  house  and 
some  out-buildings,  the  only  habitation  in  sight  or  within  a  consider- 
able distance.  The  barking  of  innumerable  dogs  welcomed  our 
approach,  and  as  we  pulled  up  in  front  of  the  door,  the  river,  about 
four  hundred  yards  in  width,  came  into  view  just  in  the  rear.  It 
was  evidently  the  establishment  of  a  plain,  comfortable  farmer,  whose 
guardianship  of  the  ducking  and  fishing  doubtless  greatly  diminished 
the  annual  rental  to  the  ov,  i!  t.  Our  "traps"  were  soon  inside  and 
the  horses  stabled.  We  had  one  large  room  containing  six  small 
and  well-kept  beds,  and  at  one  end  a  capacious  fire-place,  on  which 
a  great  pile  of  hickory  logs  was  burning  and  diffusing  a  genial  glow 
and  the  not  disagreeable  odor  of  a  wood  fire.     On  the  ceiling  were 


i  t'v 


Canvas- Back  and  Terrapin. 


731 


fishing-rods,  nets,  and  tackle  of  every  description ;  while  around  the 
walls  were  gun-racks,  clothing,  and  hunting  paraphernalia  in  profu- 
sion. At  seven  o'clock,  a  substantial  and  well-cooked  dinner  or  sup- 
per was  served  in  the  adjoining  kitchen,  to  which  our  farmer  sat 
down  with  us.  The  conversation  related  chiefly  to  some  recent  inci- 
dents of  'coon-hunting,  and  a  discussion  as  to  the  probable  direction 
of  the  wind  in  the  morning.  Apprehensions  of  a  north-west  wind 
were  expressed,  but  the  general  idea  was  that  it  would  blow  up  from 
the  south-west  with  snow  or  rain,  in  which  case  the  ducks  would  be 
plentiful.  After  half  an  hour  spent  in  selecting  guns,  filling  cartridge- 
belts  and  satchels,  and  in  other  preparations,  we  turned  in  at  nine 
o'clock,  and,  although  the  hour  was  somewhat  unusual  to  me,  I  slept 
soundly.  At  three  o'clock,  our  farmer  came  in  and  called  us  and  lit 
the  lamp.  Breakfast — beefsteak,  rashers  of  bacon,  eggs,  and  coffee 
— was  already  sputtering  and  crackling  in  the  kitchen.  A  hasty 
dowse  of  water  with  an  eighth  of  an  inch  of  ice  on  its  surface,  and 
a  liberal  "nip"  of  whisky, — the  latter  insisted  upon  for  sanitary 
reasons  of  obscure  origin  but  evidently  great  weight, — and  we  sat 
down.  Either  there  was  something  in  the  air  or  the  spirits  were  at 
the  bottom  of  it,  but  at  any  rate  the  heavy  supper  of  the  previous 
evening  seemed  entirely  forgotten,  and  the  quantity  of  breakfast 
consumed  was  amazing.     We  were  out  in  the  sharp,  frosty  air  and 


Rowing  uown   to  tiik   hi  ink,  4.30  a.  m. 

bright    moonlight  at  a  quarter  to  four  o'clock,  excellently  fortified 
to  meet  the  demands  of  the  day  and  the  rigor  of  the  weather. 

It  was  but  a  few  yards  from  the  house  to  the  water,  and  we  had 
a  row  of  a  mile  and  a  half  to  the  "blind."  We  got  into  a  good, 
steady,   flat-bottomed  boat,   in  which  two  clogs,  whom  no  one  had 


i 


'-^ 

% 

ill 

is  ■; 

III 

it  m 

m 


I 


V-A 


V- 


n 


m 


I 

iff 


m 


732 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


\  I 


!  k 


■JSSiA    BLIND    AT    BIDDISON  S    POINT,   ON    MIDDLE    KIVER. 


^mm 


called,  took  their  places  in  per- 
functory and  solemn  fashion,  and 
we  shoved  off,  while  about  a  doz- 
en hounds  and  yard-dogs  howled 
a  muffled  and  anxious  adieu  from  the  bank. 
The  moon  hung  low  near  the  tree-tops,  the 
river  was  dark,  and  its  outlines  black  and 
mysterious.  About  a  quarter  of  an  inch  of 
ice  had  formed,  and  as  we  crashed  steadily 
through  it,  odd  and  fantastic  echoes  came  from  the 
gloomy  and  silent  shores.  As  we  reached  the  broader 
water  nearer  the  mouth  of  the  creek  the  ice  disappeared, 
but  the  surface  was  calm  and  nowhere  gave  back  a  reflection  of  the 
moon.  M.  was  in  the  bow  and  I  in  the  stern,  our  host,  B.,  rowing 
in  the  middle.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  seized  his  gun  and  loaded  it. 
M.  did  the  same  ;  I  was  too  mystified  to  understand  the  proceeding, 
and  was  content  to  wonder  and  look  on,  peering  around  in  the  gloom 
to  find  the  occasion,  and  seeing  nothing  but  the  impenetrable  shad- 
ows and  the  undefined  depths  of  the  dark  shore. 

"Hist!"  said  B.  "There  is  where  they  are,"  and  taking  his 
gun  between  his  knees,  he  pulled  a  few  strong,  quiet  strokes  again. 
In  a  moment  there  was  a  most  astonishing  and  startling  noise,  and  I 
saw,  about  five  hundred  yards  to  the  right,  a  long  line  of  bright 
silver  break  upon  the  water.  Thousands  of  ducks  that  had  made  a 
great  "  bed "  in  the  creek  during  the  night  had  been  startled  and 
were  taking  wing  simultaneously,  and  the  noise  made  by  their 
splashing  as  they  rose  was  tremendous.     Presently,  as  the  last  duck 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


733 


lifted  into  the  air,  it  ceased,  and  all  was  as  silent  as  before.  Not  a 
duck  could  be  seen ;  but  my  two  friends  had  their  guns  cocked  and 
were  apparently  listening  intently.  In  a  minute  I  heard  a  curious, 
whistling  sound.  It  grew  louder  and  seemed  to  approach,  but  I 
could  see  nothing  whatever.  As  I  looked,  both  my  companions 
brought  up  their  guns  and  fired  both  barrels  almost  simultaneously 
overhead. 

"  Hush  !"  said  B.  "Listen  carefully.  Mark  one!  Mark  two! 
Mark  three  !" 

I  heard  the  splashes,  and  as  the  birds,  falling,  broke  the  water, 
it  faintly  caught  up  the  moonlight,  and  we  could  see  three  ducks 
struggling  not  one  hundred  yards  off;  at  the  same  moment  both 
dogs,  without  an  order  from  any  one,  disappeared  overboard. 

"  How  did  you  know  where  to  fire  ?"  I  asked. 

"  You  are  not  used  to  it  yet,"  replied  B.  "When  you  are,  you'll 
see  ducks  easily  enough  on  the  darkest  night." 

The  ducks,  on  rising,  had  wheeled  around,  making  a  semicircle 
of  half  a  mile,  and,  as  my  friends'  experience  led  them  to  expect,  had 
come  directly  down  the  river.  There  were  thousands  of  them  in  the 
air,  and  the  whistling  sound  was  made  by  their  wings.  In  the 
meantime,  both  dogs  came  up  to  the  side  to  be  taken  in.  Each  had 
a  red-head  in  his  mouth ;  the  third  bird  having  died,  could  not  be 
detected  in  the  darkness,  and  was  abandoned. 

A  further  pull  of  some  ten  minutes  brought  us  to  the  blind, 
inside  of  which  we  found  Joe,  the  darkey  who  had  put  out  the 
decoys  during  the  night.  He  was  fast  asleep  in  the  straw,  though 
the  thermometer  was  below  freezing-point.  He  took  our  boat  and 
rowed  it  away  out  of  sight  around  the  nearest  point,  and  then  return- 
ing, lay  down  by  the  dogs  and  went  to  sleep  again.  We  seated 
ourselves  to  wait  for  day-break  and  ducks,  and  I  endeavored  to  per- 
suade myself  that  I  was  not  cold.  My  companions  spoke  in  hushed 
ecstasy  of  the  south-west  wind  that  blfiw  up  the  river  as  the  moon 
went  down.  It  struck  me  as  the  coldest  wind  1  had  ever  known,  and 
I  drew  my  hands  up  my  sleeves  and  made  a  manful  effort  to  keep  my 
teeth  from  chattering.  A  gray  light  stole  across  the  eastern  sky, 
and  I  began  to  see  the  canards  riding  at  anchor  in  front  of  our  blind. 
I  was  undeniably  cold,  and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  confess- 
ing to  myself  that  I  felt  miserable.     Besides,    my  companions  had 


;•,!  '. 


1''; 


734 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


OVKK    THE    DKCOYS. 


been  whispering  dismal  experiences  of  whole  days  in  blinds  without 
a  solitary  shot,  and  I  began  to  despise  the  whole  business.  The 
blind  became  a  dry-goods  box  in  a  bush,  and  the  decoys  an  unblush- 
ing and  unworthy  device,  and  I  could  have  readily  proclaimed  the 
whole  thing  unsportsmanlike  and  disgraceful,  had  there  been  a  spark 
of  encouragement  in  the  demeanor  of  even  sleepy  Joe.  The  gray 
light  grew  brighter,  and  a  blue,  hazy  "smoke"  seemed  to  creep  up 
the  river  as  day  dawned  over  the  cold  water.  Presently,  we  heard 
a  shrilly,  feeble  whistle,  precisely  such  as  the  young  puddle-duck  of 
the  barn-yard  makes  in  his  earliest  vocal  efforts.  "  Bald-pates  !" 
said  B.  ;  and  overhead,  far  out  of  reach,  we  saw  four  ducks. 
"There'll  be  lots  of  them  now,"  said  B.  "They  are  coming  up  the 
river  before  the  wind.  H'sh  !  mark,  mark,  now  quiet  everybody!" 
Right  out  of  the  blue  smoke,  coming  directly  toward  our  blind,  canie 
not  less  than  two  hundred  black-heads.  On  they  .came,  straight 
toward  the  decoys.  Within  a  hundred  )ards  of  our  noses,  the  leader 
swerved,  and  out  they  all  went,  not  one  coming  within  gunshot. 
Before  I  could  give  way  to  my  disappointment,  B.  gave  his  warning 
again.  "  Mark,  mark,  a  bunch  of  canvas-backs  ! '  and  from  the 
same  direction,  flying  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  water,  came  some 
twenty  ducks.     They  saw  the  decoy  flock,  turned  in,  and  in  a  moment 


J  .^M 


HI 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


735 


more  were  hovering  within  a  few  inches  of  the  wooden  heads.  All 
three  stood  up,  and  as  the  ducks  hung  fluttering,  six  barrels  were 
poured  into  them,  and  one,  two,  four,  six,  eight,  and  another — no — 
yes — no — yes — nine  ducks  tumbled  into  the  water,  and  splashed 
and  floundered  around  in  their  death  agonies.  While  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  to  swear  that  I  had  hit  one,  I  had  an  abiding  con- 
sciousness that  at  least  four  of  the  birds  were  mine,  and  1  became 
wholly  oblivious  of  the  temperature.  "  Mark  again  !  "  said  the  keen- 
sighted  and  watchful  B.  "  Mark  single  duck  coming  right  in. 
Now,  sir,  take  him,  he's  your  first  choice  !  Now,  sir  !  »  *  *  (iood, 
sir,  by  gracious  !  "  I  had  tumbled  that  single  duck  over  like  a  pro- 
fessor. To  say  that  I  was  delighted  will  not  do.  I  was  excited ;  I 
was  wild,  and  I  began  to  mark  invisible  ducks  myself  "  CJood 
sport  ?  "  said  H.  "  Gorgeous  !  "  said  I.  "  Yes,"  said  H. ;  "  it  gener- 
ally drives  a  man  crazy,  the  first  day  of  good  shooting  he  gets,  and 
then  we  have  to  take  him  up  here  in  the  woods  and  tie  him  to  a  tree 
till  he  calms  down,  and  is  fit  to  be  allowed  back  in  the  blind."  I  ilid 
not  think  I  was  so  excited,  but  I  soothed  myself  Hut  by  this  time 
it  was  almost  sunrise,  and  we  could  see  ducks  coming  up  the  river 
in  countless  numbers.  Presently,  a  large  flock  left  the  middle  of  the 
stream  and  swept  out  about  half  a  mile  below  into  a  broad  bay.  At 
first,  it  seemed  as  if  they  would  "  bed  "  there,  but  the)-  turned  and 
headed  for  the  blind.  We  crouched  low,  and  scarcely  dared  to 
breathe  lest  they  should  swerve  out  into  the  stream  again.  On  they 
came  like  a  whirlwind,  and  were  fluttering  and  splashing  on  the 
decoys  as  we  rose  and  fired  six  barrels  into  the  thickest  part  of  them. 
Not  less  than  twenty  canvas-backs  and  red-heads  fell,  and,  as  .some, 
only  disabled,  tried  to  swim  away,  a  few  more  shots  made  sure  of  them. 
"  Mark,  gemmen,  mark  !  '  said  Joe,  holding  down  the  dogs,  and 
"whir"  came  a  flock  of  bald-pates  right  over  us  from  behind.  H., 
who  shoots  from  his  left  shoulder,  had  his  gun  up  in  an  instant  and 
fired  both  barrels  cwerhead,  and  two  large,  heavy  birds  fell  wounded 
outside  the  line  of  the  decoys.  Neither  M.  nor  myself  had  been 
quick  enough.  "  Now,  Joe,  said  B.,  "  out  with  you  ;  quick  !  '  Joe 
let  go  the  dogs  and  dived  under  the  blintl,  and  in  a  moment  more  was 
paddling  out  and  picking  up  duck  after  duck  with  his  little  canoe. 
Here  came  in  the  office  of  the  dog.s,  whose  wonderful  instinct  and 
training  and  perfect  experience  constitute  one  of  the  most  astonish- 


I   f; 


W-'> 


li 


i 
I 


Vi 


PI 


■  t   1 


736 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


n 

■    /^\ 

■  i.,            .  1 

JnL  ^ 

IB-^J       -:i 

^M 

^^^K'' 

[■■'.V  ■^.•.v-;;.^: 

'■■  ^«WBd 

^M^^'^l^ 

i^^K 

WBL       ^i| 

Kv             ^Hw^l4i»  tI 

HB^k^   1 

H|^^Biu/' 

i^BjH^^    .^fep^S 

Hh^^^Hi 

'  '.^nB^/tMHsBi 

WW 

iSa^v  >\^lt  ifi^^B.' 

>^j^^K^^V'^    1  ^^^    ' 

■."-,^*^^*^  \     '    i  ■ 

'"e'     '^l^E^^B' 

•■'■-,•    v"-   -  .-■    ^  '■     W       \ 

i    s '  '  •» 

^n^K\ 

4     A 

•w--- 

JOK. 


ing  examples  of  animal  intelligence  that  one  may  see.  They  were 
not,  in  appearance,  dogs  that  would  attract  any  special  attention. 
They  belonged  to  the  breed  known  as  Chesapeake  duck-dogs,  and 
they  certainly  showed  that  retrieving  ducks  was  their  vocation. 
They  went  out  straight  through  some  thirty  birds,  in  and  around  the 
decoys,  toward  the  two  bald-pates,  which,  only  slightly  disabled, 
were  swimming  rapidly  away.  Each  dog  selected  his  bird  and  went 
for  it  steadily.  As  the  dog  drew  near,  down  went  the  duck.  The 
dog  stopped,  and,  as  it  were,  stood  up  in  the  water,  turning  slowly 
around  in  a  circle  looking  for  the  duck  to  re-appear.  The  moment  it 
came  up  he  went  for  it  again.  This  time  he  got  nearer.  The  same 
thing  was  repeated,  the  dog  each  time  waiting  patiently  for  the 
duck's  re-appearance,  and  each  time  getting  nearer  and  nearer  to  it. 
Finally,  with  a  sudden  dash  and  a  partial  dive,  each  dog  seized  his 
duck,  and  turning,  swam  to  shore  with  it.  They  would  not  trouble 
themselves  with  the  ducks  that  Joe  could  secure,  but  selected  those 
that  required  their  particular  attention,  swimming  after  each  not  less 
than  a  quarter  of  a  mile.     When  a  shot  is  fired  and  a  duck  falls,  a 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


131 


dog  trained  as  these  were  will,  unless  forbidden,  leave  the  blind  im- 
mediately and  secure  the  bird.  If  no  duck  falls  the  dog  lies  down 
again,  invariably  using  his  own  judgment  as  to  the  result  of  the  shot. 
He  will  never  stir  without  express  orders,  if  he  thinks  the  shot  has  been 
ineffectual.  The  breed  is  peculiar  to  these  waters.  It  is  adapted  to 
the  cold  water,  and  has  been  cultivated  for  years,  and  is  greatly  prized 
by  the  sportsmen  of  Maryland. 


As  much  interest  is  now  taken  in  this  remarkahle  i)ree(l  of  dogs,  we  will  give  a 
few  (|Uotations  al)oiit  it,  taken  from  "The  Dog  and  tiie  Sportsman,"  by  '1'.  .S.  Skinner, 
former  editor  of  the  "Turf  Register,"  etc.,  Philadelphia,  1845.  In  this  book,  the  first 
published  in  this  country  on  the  dog,  game,  and  the  gun, —  and  now  ([uite  scarce, — 
is  the  first  account  of  the  origin  of  this  breed.  These  quotations  will  |)Ut  the  reader  in 
possession  of  the  ancient  hisloiy  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay  dog — [Ki)n()R|. 

"  As  to  this  stock,  besides  the  best  of  them  being  still  red  or  black,  there  arc 
other  reasons  for  assuming  that  those  most  esteemed  have  descended  from,  and  still 
partake  distinctly  of,  the  blood  and  traits  of  a  pair  of  these  colors,  brought  directly, 
male  and  female,  from  Newfoundland  to  Maryland,  nearly  forty  years  ago.  Of  that 
importation,  we  are  glad  to  have  it  in  our  power  to  preserve  the  following  authentic 
memoir,  furnished,  at  our  instance,  by  the  importer  himself,  a  gentleman  who  possesses, 
as  all  his  friends  know,  an  instinctive  fondness  for  good  ilogs  and  f^ood  deeds : 


..III': 


"  '  Hai.timore,  Maryland,  January  7,  1845. 

"  ^My  Dear  Sir .-  In  the  fall  of  1807  I  was  on  board  of  the  .ship  Canton,  belonging  to 
my  uncle,  the  late  Hu^h  Thompson,  of  Baltimore,  when  we  fell  in,  at  sea,  near  the 
termination  of  a  very  heavy  equinoctial  gale,  with  an  English  brig  in  a  sinking  con- 
dition, and  took  off"  the  crew.  'I"he  brig  was  loaded  with  cod-fish,  and  was  bound  to 
Poole,  in  England,  from  Newfoundland.  I  boarded  her,  in  command  of  a  boat  from 
the  Canton,  which  was  sent  to  take  off  the  English  crew,  the  brig's  own  boats  having 
been  all  swept  away,  and  her  crew  in  a  state  of  intoxication.  I  found  on  board  of  her 
two  Newfoundland  pups,  male  and  female,  which  I  saved,  and  subse(|uently,  on  land- 
ing the  English  crew  at  Norfolk,  our  own  destination  being  Baltimore,  1  i)urchased  these 
two  pups  of  the  h.nglish  captain  for  a  guinea  apiece.  Being  bound  again  to  sea,  1 
gave  the  dog-pup,  which  was  called  Sailor,  to  Mr.  John  Mercer,  of  West  River,  and 
the  slut-pup,  which  was  called  Canton,  to  Dr.  James  Stewart,  of  Spar'-:jw's  Point.  'I'lie 
history  which  the  English  captain  gave  me  of  these  pups  was,  th  it  the  owner  of  his 
brig  was  extensively  engaged  in  the  Newfoundland  trade,  and  hat'  directed  his  corre- 
spondent to  select  ami  send  him  a  i)air  of  pujjs  of  the  most  approved  Newfoundland 
breed,  but  of  different  families,  and  that  the  pair  I  purchased  of  him  were  selected 
under  this  order.  The  dog  was  of  a  dingy  red  color  and  the  slut  black.  They  were 
not  large;  their  hair  was  short,  but  very  thick  coated;  they  had  ilew-claws.  Both 
attained  great  reputation  as  water-dogs.  They  were  most  sagacious  in  everything, 
particularly  in  all  duties  connected  with  duck-shooting.     Governor  Lloyd  exchanged  a 

47 


9' 


\  \: 


It  ^''i| 

IPs  I 

A 

m 


...pi 


738 


Canvas -Back  ami  'J'crrapiti. 


m 


merino  ram  for  tht-  tlog,  at  the  time  of  the  merino  fever,  when  such  rams  were  selhnu  f"r 
many  huiiiired  dollars,  and  took  hin>  over  to  his  estate  on  'he  eastern  shore  of  Mary- 
land, wliere  his  proj^cny  were  well  known  for  many  years  after,  and  may  still  he  known 
there  and  on  the  western  shore  as  the  Sailor  /»;ri/.  The  slut  remained  at  Sparrow's 
Point  till  her  death,  and  her  i)ro^,'eny  were  and  are  still  well  known  through  I'atapsco 
Neck,  on  the  (lunpowder,  and  up  the  bay,  amon^^st  the  duck-shooters,  as  unsurpassed 
for  their  purposes.  I  have  heard  both  Doctor  Stewart  an<l  Mr.  Mercer  relate  most 
exlraonlinary  instances  of  the  sagacity  and  performance  of  hoth  dog  and  slut,  and 
would  refer  you  to  their  friends  for  such  particulars  as  I  am  unable,  at  this  distance  of 
time,  to  recollei:!  with  suthcient  accuracy  to  repeat, 

"  '  Yours,  in  haste, 

"  '  (iKl)R(iK    l,AW.' 


rii ,  i 


!       < 


%ii  i  ">  I  1^ 


"  On  inquiry,  since  the  date  of  the  above,  of  Mr.  Mercer  and  of  Dr.  J.  Stewart,  it  is 
ascertained  of  the  former,  who  owned  Sailor,  that  •  he  was  of  fine  size  and  figure  —  lofty 
in  his  carriage,  and  built  for  strength  and  activity  ;  remarkably  muscular  and  broad 
across  the  hips  an<l  breast ;  head  large,  but  not  out  of  i)roportion  ;  mu/zle  rather  larger 
than  is  common  with  that  race  of  dog  ;  his  color  a  dingy  red,  with  some  white  on  the 
face  and  breast ;  his  coat  short  aiiii  snwuf/i,  hut  uncommonly  thick,  and  more  like  a 
coarse _////■  than  hair;  tail  full,  with  long  hair,  and  always  carried  very  high.  His  eyes 
were  very  peculiar ;  they  were  so  //i,7//  as  to  have  almost  an  unnatural  aiijiearance, 
something  resembling  what  is  termed  a  wall  ^yc  in  a  horse  ;  and  it  is  remarkable  that 
in  a  visit  which  I  made  to  the  eastern  shore,  nearly  twenty  years  after  he  was  sent  there, 
in  a  sloop  which  had  been  sent  expressly  for  him,  to  West  River,  by  Governor  Lloyd, 
I  saw  many  of  his  descendants  who  were  marked  with  this  peculiarity.' 

'•  Does  it  not  seem  to  be  a  characteristic  of  the  best  water-dogs  that,  like  the 
eagle  and  the  owl,  the  lion  and  the  cat,  and  other  birds  and  beasts  of  prey  whose 
condition  and  habits  rei|uire  extraordinary  powers  of  vision,  as  does  the  dog  when 
swimming  in  ])ursuit  of  ducks  at  a  great  distance,  that  they  should  have  eyes  of  a 
yellow  or,  at  least,  of  an  uncommon,  not  black,  color? 

•  •  •  "  Were  old  Varnell  (the  trusted  servant  and  iluck-shooter  of  that  vener- 
able and  high-s[)iriteil  patriot.  Doctor  J.  Stewart)  still  alive,  he  could  relate  many  most 
extraordinary  feats  performed  by  Canton  at  Sparrow's  I'oint,  She  surpassed  her  species 
generally  in  unrivaled  devotion  to  the  water  and  to  the  sport  of  ducking,  as  carried  on 
by  the  old  Doctor's  colored  man,  Varnell,  with  his  murderous invVv/, if////.'  Her  patience 
and  endurance  of  fatigue  seemed  almost  incredible,  and  her  performances  would  be 
best  illustrated  by  taking  down,  from  the  old  Doctor  and  others,  who  remember 
them,  the  facts  of  her  fights  with  wounded  swans,  after  pursuing  them  in  the  water 
for  miles.  Also  her  extraordinary  pursuit  of  wounded  ducks,  amongst  rotten  and 
floating  ice,  and  sometimes  in  fogs  and  darkness.  On  one  occasion,  she  brought 
out  22  or  23  ducks,  all  killed  or  wounded  by  Varnell  at  a  single  shot.  A  good 
deal  of  time  was  lost  in  pursuing  these  wounded  ducks,  and  at  the  close  of  this 
pursuit,  it  being  then  dark,  \'arnell  gave  up  the  slut  as  lost,  so  many  hours  had  she 
been  engaged  in  bringing  out  her  game;  but  after  Varnell  had  sorrowfully  turned 
his  face  homeward,  she  overtook  him  with  one  or  two  ducks  in  her  mouth ;  and 
the  old   Doctor  remembers  hearing  Varnell  say,  that  at  one  time,  when  she  was  most 


n    '  a 


Canvas -Back  and  Tcyfapiii. 


739 


fatigued,   she  climlicd  on  a  cake  of  flontinx  ice,  and  after  resting  herself  on  it,  she 
renewed  her  pursuit  of  the  duci<s. 

•  *  •  "  In  their  descendants,  even  to  the  present  remote  generation,  tiie  fine 
qualities  of  the  original  jiair  are  conspicuously  ])reserved,  in  spite  of  occasional  stains 
of  inferior  blood.  •  •  •  'There  is  one  now  (Leo)  at  Maxwell's  Point,  on  the 
(lunpowder  River,  in  Maryland,  a  descendant  of  Sailor,  through  a  slut  |)Up  of  his, 
who  deserves  to  be  named  as  a  noble  specimen  of  his  tribe.  •  ♦  *  Leo  stands 
in  height  from  20  to  22  inches  ;  blai  k,  with  a  small  white  spot  on  his  breast,  and 
a  little  white  on  each  foot;  his  eyes,  again,  yellow!  His  form  is  something  after 
the  model  of  the  setter,  without  his  feathery  tail,  or  the  smooth  one  of  the  pointer; 
not  so  deep  in  the  chest  as  the  setter,  but  rounder  in  his  body,  and  larger  in  the 
neck,  with  his  ears  smaller  and  more  set  u|i,  and  the  tips  of  them  turning  down. 
His  hair  not  exactly  long,  yet  further  from  being  short ;  with  a  woolly  under- jacket 
to  protect  his  skin  from  the  water,  for  he  lias  often  to  make  his  way  through  tiie 
ice.     Such  is  the  pcrstiinirl  of  Leo  —  a  dog 

"'WliDsc  lioiR'st  liLMit  i^  >lill  Ilis  nmster's  own, 
Will)  lal)(>i>,  fij^lils,  livi's,  hrcatliOM  for  liiin  alone' 

"Many  anecdotes  might  be  related  in  proof  of  iiis  reasoning  powers;  but  we 
have  room  only  to  add,  in  general  terms,  that  he  conies  fully  up  to  the  Hue  oj   his 


I 

\ 

% 

\ 

\ 

\\ 

% 


i 

J 

i 

1; 

% 


t/lr^  'I, 


i'i' 


M  uW 


if!  t 


\mi  ■>. 


\  >, 


i 


740 


Canvas- Back  ami  'I'orapiii. 


duly.  (){  l\()w  few  liijtcil.s  can  we  say  as  mm  h  H  When  (lucks  are  |)assiiig  over, 
he  takes  his  stand  with  his  master,  his  fore-l'eet  resting  on  the  hhnd,  ami,  still  as  a 
mouse,  he  watches  not  the  gun,  luir  anything  l)Ut  l!ie  game  a-,  it  ajipriwches ;  and 
iisternng  to  liear  the  sliot  strike,  tiie  moment  a.  duck  i>  seen  to  taker  in  its  flight 
as  it  falls,  the  goud  dog  plunges  in  the  river  like  a  hall  from  a  (amion.  ami,  from 
whatever  distame,  brings  the  duck  an<l  lays  it  at  the  feet  of  his  master,  ile  lias 
been  known  to  bring  out  as  many  as  three  at  a  lime,  and  lra■^  tlie  sagacity,  wlien 
some  are  only  1  rippled  and  in  danger  of  being  lost,  to  give  to  them  first  a  hnish- 
ing  ^rip,  leaving  such  as  are  stone  deacl  to  be  secured  at  leisure.  When  a  duck 
di'i's  to  es<  ape  him,  it  is  curious  to  see  hou  he  will  stand  erect,  head  r;nd  slioulders 
out  ol  water,  wat(  liinK  in  all  direi:tions  lor  its  re-a))pearan<  e.  Such  are  the  ofli(  cs. 
such  the  achievement:-!,  of  the  highbred  water-dog  of  the  ( 'hesa|)iake  bay  and  the 
noble  estuaries  that  commingle  in  its  bosom 

"Three  lypes  cjf  th;;  Chesapeake  l!ay  dog  are  now  recognized:  (1.)  The  Otier 
breed:  lolor,  lawny  sedge;  hair,  very  short.  (2.)  'I"he  Red  Winchester:  hair,  long. 
(3. J  The  pj'i-brown,  with  .1  curly  ccjat.  .\  white  spot  on  the  breast  is  not  unusual 
in  the  three  lypes. 

•'.Measurements:  From  foreloe  tci  toj)  of  bac;k,  25  inches;  from  lip  of  nose  tcj 
ba.se  of  lii.ad,  10  inches;  girth  of  body  back  of  fore-leg,  3.3  inc  hes;  breast.  9  inches; 
around  fore-feet,  6  inches;  around  forearm  below  shouicler,  7  inc  hes ;  between  eyes, 
2j^  inches;  length  of  ears,  5  inches;  from  base  of  head  to  rooi  of  t.iil,  ,3:5  inches; 
tail,  16  inches;  around  the  muz/.le  below  eyes,  10  inches." 


liy  nine  o'cl()c::k  \v(;  li;t(l  nindy-si.x  fine  iliicks  in  our  hiin'l,  and  ;i 
v(,Ty  liandsonif;  and  iinposir.j.^  lookiiv.,'  lot  ol  L(am(.-,  indeed,  llicy 
made;.  .After  tiial  hour  tin;  ducks  ceased  "  iradino,"  as  flyin;^'  tVoiii 
one  point  to  anotlie;  is  termed,  and  Ueoan  to  form  threat  heds  ol 
c()iintl(;ss  thousands  out  in  the  open  >vater.  .\s  tar  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  tl.e  middh-  of  the  stream  and  the  hroad  water  of  the  riv(;r 
helow  were  covered  with  them.  ("here  uc-re  literally  acres  of  I'licks 
of  all  kinds;  hut  "  trading  "  was  at  an  end,  and  shooting,  except  of 
an  occasional  siiiL^h   or  stray  duck,  was  tem|)C)raril\   suspended. 

"  W'cdl,"  said    I).,   '    I    siij)|)Ose,   now,   you'd  hke  to  see    some   duck 
tollini;  i'" 

"  I'd  like  to  l)(;  told,"  I  replied,   "  what  tollino  is." 

1).  declined  to  explain,  and  said  the  only  way  to  find  out  was  to 
see  it  lor  ones<!lt.  ll  w;is  detenniiicd  to  :_;()  o\'er  to  Colcl  SprinL(, 
;ind  as  a  walk  of  half  a  mil<:  across  one  o!  these  peninsulas  will  take 
one  from  one  (.•sti!ar\-  to  another,  we  shouldereci  our  mms  and  were 
soon  in  sij^dit  of  it.  It  was  just  such  another  she(;t  of  water  as  we 
h;'id  left,  with  woods  ^rrowinj.^  thickly  down  to  a  sandv  shore.      We 


I         1 


m 


til' 


Cniivus-Hiick  ami  Tct'mpiu. 


741 


walked  leisurely  over,  and  Jue,  liavin^^  \u.iw  U)  his  cal)iii  for  a  yoiinj^ 
spaniel  in  his  ke<;|jin}^f,  overtook  lis.  Cold  Sprinj^  was  full  of  clucks, 
but  they  were  all  "heckled"  far  out  from  the  shore.  \^v  made  for  a 
sh<,'ltered  cove,  and  we-re  sliortly  crawlini,''  on  our  hands  and  knees 
throuj^di  the  calamus  and  dry,  yellow-tufted  niarsh-j^'^rass,  which 
made  a  j^ujod  cover  alnu;st  to  the  water's  <;ds^e.  Joe  left  the:  doj^s 
with  us.  and,  j,Join^  hack  into  the  woods,  presently  returned  with  his 
hat  full  of  chips  from  the;  stump  of  a  tre(;  that  had  heen  fc-lled.  The 
ducks  were  swimminij  slowly  up  before  th(?  wind,  and  it  seemed  pos- 
sii;lc!  tiiat  a  larj^^e  body  of  them  mij^ht  {)ass  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  where  we  w(;re.  ihe  two  chjj^'-:,  Kolio  and  Jim,  lay 
down  close  loehind  us,  and  Joe;,  Kins^'  t]at  behind  a  thick  tuft  a  few 
yards  to  oiu'  rij^dit,  and  about  fifteen  feet  from  th.(;  w;itr;r's  cdj^c,  had 
his  hat  full  of  chips  and  field  tin-  youn^r  spaniel  !)■  ide  him.  .All 
remained  perf(;ctl)-  (|uiet  and  watched  the  ducks.  Aft(;r  nearly 
thrc:(;f[uarters  of  an  hour's  patient  waiting,  we  saw  a  larj.{;e  body  of 
clucks  j^radiially  driftin^^  in  toward  our  cove;,  'f  hey  were  between 
three  and  four  hundred  yards  away,  when  W.  said  : 

" 'I'ry  them   now,  Jfx: !      Now,  bo)s,  be  ready,  and  don't  move  a 
muscle  until  I  say  tire  !" 

I'hctn  |(!c:  commenced  toliinj^  the  ducks.  I  le  threw  a  chi])  into 
the  vvat(;r,  and  let  his  doj.^  '^u.  'Ihe  spani(;l  skipped  eaj^erly  in  w:Ji 
unbounded  manifestations  of  deliijhl.  I  ihouj^dit  it  for  a  moment  a 
great  piece  cjf  carelessness  on  Joe's  part.  lUit  in  went  another  chip 
just  at  the  shallow  edj^e,  and  the  spani<'l  enU:red  into  the  fun  with 
the  jrfciatest  z(;st  imajrinable.  Jcm;  kept  on  dirovvinjr  ids  ciiips,  first 
to  the  rij^ht  and  them  to  tl;e  l(;ft,  and  the  more;  he  threw,  the  more; 
(.rayly  the  do^r  played.  I'Vtr  lwt;nty  minutes  I  watched  this  myste- 
rious and  s((  niiuL^dy  purposeless  performance,  but  present!),  lookiiiL,^ 
oward  tht!  ducks,  I  noticed  that  a  few  coots  had  N.'ft  the  main  body 
anc'  had  head'd  toward  the  do<r.  Mven  at  that  distance,  I  couM  sec 
that  they  were  attracted  by  his  actions.  Tin  y  were  soon  followed 
b\'  other  coots,  and,  alter  a  minute  or  two,  a  lew  larj^^c  diieks  came 
out  from  the  hid  and  joined  them.  Others  iolloucd  these,  and  then 
the'"e  were  su(cessi\c  delections  ol  rapidly  in(i"e;isini.'  numbers. 
Several  (hicks  stood  up  in  the  water  bv  the  aid  (>;'  tlieir  wini^s. 
sustained  themselves  ,1  moment.  ;ui(l,  sitlini^r  dfiun,  ■.warn  rapidK 
.'iroend  in  involved  cire  hs,  betrayinj.^   the   ],,rreatc;st  excitement.      .And 

47A 


r  » 
If! 


I: 


>t  i 


<I1:? 


i< 

i|l!> 


i  ■ 


T  I 

iL 

i 

•  i' 

I 


m 


^r 


mw 


'\ 


m 


742 


('<iiiviis-lht( k  <iii(f   7rfi'<i/)iit. 


A      I'll, I.     Ill       III  I  IC,     f  OMI'.',     rN 


still  the  (lo^r  |)|ay(r|,  ;ii)<|  played,  and  ^.'iinholi-d  in  ^rracrfiil  fashion 
after  Joe's  (hips.  I»y  this  time  the  dncks  \\>-r<-  not  over  two  hun 
dr<r(l  yards  away,  and,  takint;  heart  of  llxir  nnnihers,  w<re  approach- 
iiij.(  rapidly,  sliowini'  in  all  tliijr  ai  lions  'iie  liveliest  ( nrirjsity.  It 
was  an  astonishint^  and  most  interestin;.;  spei  tac!-  lo  see  th  'in  mar 
shalin}4'  ahoni,  lo  se<-  ionv;  lines  stand  np  ont  of  t...  water,  to  note 
their  iatnons  excitement,  and  the  hdelitv  with  which  the  doj^  kept  to 
his  (leceitfnl  antics,  nevei-  hreakin^  the  s|)ell  hy  a  fatal  liark  or  a  dis- 
tnriiintf  movement.  I  he  n)ore  wildl\  lif  play'l.  the  utore  erratic 
^rew  the  actions  ol  the  due  ks,  I  hey  deployed  Irom  ri;.dit  to  I'll, 
retreated  and  advanced,  whirled  in  c-ompanies,  and  crossed  .uicj  re 
crossctd  oni'  another.  Strat^^lcrs  hnri'i'd  up  hcmi  the:  rc:ar,  and 
hunches  from  tlu'  main  Ixcl  came-  (liiiterinL;  ^ni'l  pnslnn;^  through  to 
the  Ironi  to  see  what  it  was  all  ahoiit.  iiy  this  tim<'  the-  nearest 
skirmishers  were  not  a  hundred  \ards  cjjl,  and  as  |oe  threw  the 
chips  to  rii^hl  or  Idl  and  tin-  do^;  wheeled  alter  tli'-m,  so  wmld  tin: 
duc;ks    iumi'<liale|\     wh'il    Irom    side    lo   side.       (  )n    the\    c  ame    until 


! 


fl 


TT1 


('(ii/Tds   /Uk k  and   'Irrnipiii. 


74.3 


somr  w'r<-  aLoiit.  thirty  );ir(l  .  ;iw;iy.  I  licsc  li'I'l  IkkI-:,  wliil'-  tJi'- 
unjyjvrnal'.  '  'iriosity  of  llios':  Ix-liiii'l  ina'l'-  tli'iii  |;irJi  forwar'l 
until  the  (l()^'_  lia'i  a  (los'ly  pai  k'-'l  au'li'ii' <■  ol  'nrr  a  tiioiisati'l 
(III'  ks  ;;atli':r<;(|  iti  rroni  ol  hiin, 

■'  I'in-  !  "  said  li.,  and  lli'     .pcf  laclc  'iid'-d  ni  iia\'i(  and    .lan^^dit'-r 
W  <:  };av<:  ihcMi  lli';   (irsl   l;arn;|  silting,  and,  a.  iIk)   ros<  ,  llic   .<((hi<I. 


III       i 


iili 


W':  ;;')t  tliirt\    niri'-  '  an',  as  l;a(  k  ^  and  r'd  Ji'-ad-,  .and  souh:  half  do/'n 
roots. 

Aiioihir  v,a.  ot  ■  tollin;./  "  'iurl-;-,.  .aid  to  \>'-  \'r)- 'tr'-i.tual.  is  with 
a  ^.(or^coii  ,  y'llo\\  and  r'd  l<an'laha  liaii'lk'-r' hi'l.  \s;i\'-'l  ah')\'-  th': 
l^M'ass  an'l  rush'-,  on  a  sti'l..  I  »ii' k  ,  will  -a  all.  ri^'iil  iij;  uu  dior'.-  t'< 
'■,\ainin'-  it  an'l  pa\  th'-  p' naif,  '/f  th'ir  ' '<rio-.il} .  Ill'-  (anvas  l»a(k 
has  th':  i;Hin|(  '»!  in-pii  .iti\<ni  ■,  ,  inor*-  l.ir'.yly  d'\'-l')j;''l  liian  an',' 
(nh'.T  wii'i  \ari'  i\ . 


Hi!    , 

IP?. 


1;     I 


01  i 


744 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


J.  S.  Skinner,  in  "Tiic  Dog  and  the  Sportsman,"  I'hila.,  1845,  j^ivcs  the  follow- 
ing account  of  the  origin  of  tliis  singular  method  of  decoying  ducks — flu)ri()i<|: 

"More  than  forty  years  ago  (1801;),  this  c:urious  mode  of  getting  ducks  is  said 
to  have  had  its  commencement  near  Havre  <le  (Jrace,  Maryland. 

"  I'radilion  says  the  discovery  was  made  hy  a  sportsman  who,  patiently  waiting 
for  a  liody  of  ducks  to  feed  witiiin  gun-shot  (as  was  then  the  only  chance  of  get- 
ting a  shot  at  them  on  the  water),  saw  them  suddenly  raise  their  heads  anfl  swim 
directly  for  the  shore.  On  looking  for  the  cause  of  this  strange  maneuver,  he  found 
thiy   were  <lecoyed  hy  a  red  fox  jilaying  on  the  shore. 

".\n  active,  sprightly  dog  is  generally  selected  for  this  service.  •  •  •  'Ihe 
only  act  nei  essary  is  to  keep  your  dog  in  ( onstant  motion;  a  red  color  is  best,  and 
a  long  hushy  tail  of  great  aclvantage. 

"The  lanvas-hack  and  red -heads  are  the  hest  to  tole,  and  they  appear  to  he 
differently  operated  on.  'I'he  former  comes  to  the  dog  with  head  ere(  t,  sitting  high 
on  the  water,  and  when  near  you  has,  if  1  may  use  the  expression,  a  kind  of  idicUic 
look  in  the  eye,  whereas  the  latter  are  more  sunk  in  the  water,  and  ajjpear  uncon- 
scious of  their  approadi  to  the  shore." 


'I- 

1!,  ^ 


ill 

i 


Upon  the  taljlc  the  canvas-back  makes  a  royal  dish,  though  few 
can  clistintruish  between  it  and  the  red-head  when  both  are  in  season. 
Only  tho.se  very  familiar  with  the  birds  can  tell  wiiich  is  which  when 
alive,  and,  when  served,  it  b(;comes  almost  an  imjjossibility.  'Ihe 
celery  flavor  is  mon;  mark(id  in  the  canvas-back  in  the  best  of  tiie 
season.  It  is  sc;ldoni  served  precis(;ly  as  it  should  be  anywhere  out 
of  .Maryland.  If  allowed  to  remain  in  the  (wen  five  minutes  too 
lon^  it  is  unfit  for  the  table.  A  L^^ntat  deal  also  depends  iijion  the 
carving.  A  good,  (|iiick  oven  will  cook  a  fidl-sizi-d  duck  in  twenty- 
two  minutes.  It  should  never  remain  in  oxer  twent\-fiv':.  .\fter  a 
duck  is  picked  and  drawn,  it  shoidd  be  simply  wiped  dry.  Water 
should  iu;ver  touch  it,  and  it  should  \w  fairl)-  seasoned  l)efore  j,"oinjf 
to  the  fin;.*  W'Ikmi  done;,  the  birds  should  be  plac(;(l  in  |)airs  in  hot, 
(ir\'  dishes.  There  is  no  nec-d  to  |>nrpare  a  i^ravy  :  immediately  the\ 
are  cut  they  will  ti!!  iIk-  dish  with  the  ricliest  L,o'a\  y  that  ever  was 
tastc-d.      One  canvas  l»ack  to  each  "  cover"  is  considered  a  fair  allow- 

•  "  1*.  S.  How  Id  ('()(JK  A  (  ANV  \--liAi  K. —  Take  it  as  soon  after  \.\\v' liit<liii  miss- 
/■Hi^fi'  iiriiigs  it  down  as  possible,  evin  while  it  is  yet  uarm.  if  il  lan  he  so,  ami  <  ook 
it  in  ;i  'tin  kiiclieti,'  turning  :in<l  hasting  it  frei|uentK  uilli  a  gravy  1  omposed  in  the 
holtom  of  the  t)ven  willi  ,1  liule  uater  and  a  Lorain  of  salt  and  its  own  dri|]piTij.'s.  '\'\\< 
fire  should  he  a  liiisk  one  (hiikor)  the  best),  so  that  it  iii.iy  lie  doiK' '  to  a  turn  '  in 
twenty-five  or,  at  most,  thirty  minutes.     .Serve  it  u|)  immediately  in  its  own  grav\,  with 


if* 


Canvas -Back  and  Icrrapin. 


745 


ance  at  a  Maryland  table,  but  when  the  bird  is  only  an  incident  of 
the  dinner  or  supper,  of  course  half  a  bird  is  sufficient  for  each 
person.  SHcinj^  the  bird  is  unheard  of  The  two -pronj^a.-d  fork  is 
ins(;rted  diaj^onally  astride  the  breast-bone,  and  tin;  knife  la)s  half 
of  the  bird  on  each  side,  leavinj^j  the  "carcass"  on  the  fork  between. 
The  trianj^le  of  meat  an  inch  thick  comprised  between  the  lej^j  and 


IS      Mil.     l.AKI.I.R 


the  winjr,  with  its  apex  at  the  back  and  its  base  at  the  breast,  is  con- 
sid(;red  the  most  delicious  morsel  (jf  meat  that  exists,  'i'lu;  canvas- 
Ijack  in  Maryland  is  served  with  larj^e  hominy  frifjd  in  cakits,  celer), 
and  a  dry  cham|»aj.,m(;,  or  a  boltU;  of  liurj^iind}-  thai  is  lUiri^undy. 

'lerrapin,  in  tlu;  order  of  dish<;s,  pr<:ce(l(;s  tiic  duck  at  the  tabic 
In  Baltimore,  it  is  a  j^niat  lenten  dish,  devout  and  wealthy  Catholics 
findinjr  that  it  j^reatly  facilitates  the  observance  of  the  "  rej.(ula- 
tions."  It  is  sin<fular  that  it  should  appear  to  bi'  (;.\cni|)l  from  tli(; 
chiircli  jirohibition,  for  when  on  iIk;  tabic  it  would  be  hard   to  dcline 

;i  (lisli  of  ni.i',  uill  boiled  (nnd  then  frii-d)  milk  wliilc  /lainiin  :  ,iiid  tlii.ii.  if  it  in.iy  so 
iKi|)|)(--ii,  with  (  Mdvv.illadLr's  old  '  liiitlcr  '  .it  vour  cIIjou  .      IIsihIi  liiri- do  not 

<  "'  Ka/t  out   iIm'  «riltL'ii  lr'/ulili>  tif  ilic  hrain,' 

Am'I  'lis|)ci-.o  llic  parlakir  In  love  lii^  llt•i^;lllJor  a^  liiiiiicif, 
And  ihanU    I'rovi'leiiLc  for  all   ii^   lioiinlic>. 

"Oh,  liiar   liiiii   Ki   -(jiiic  iliilant   Oiorc, 
Sdiiii:   Military  tell, 
Where  none  Imt  sava(;e  iiionslcrs  roar, 
Wliire  Invc  ne'er  ileijjn'.   In  ihvell." 


h;^ 


I'i 


(  hriiiii  '■  rill'  l)t))^  ami  llie  S|iMrlMnan,"  by  .1.  S.  >kinner.  I'liilndclphi:!.  I.S45.  ) 


b;i;,\  !. 


m 

1! 


w 

liif: 


746 


Canvas -Back  and  'Icympiii. 


it  as  anythinj^r  l)iit  vc;ry  positive  meat.  It  is  certainly  (luite  as  much 
meat  as  a  i)n)ile(i  lej^f  of  a  frog.  Terrapins  an;  worth  from  $25  to 
$■56  adozen  (liirinjf  the  season.  A  liozen  terrapins  consists  of  twelve 
"diamonci-hacks,"  no  one  of  which  measures  less  than  seven  inches  in 
lenj^fth  on  the  under  shell,     A  seven-inch  terrapin  is  called  a  "  cf)unt- 


tf.-rrapin,"  and  anythini^  smaller  is  not  counted.  'I"h(;  largest  known 
do  not  exceed  ten  inches  in  lenirt.h  and  (Mj^ht  pounds  in  wcij^lu  ; 
and  such  an;  (;.\'tremely  rare.  TIk;  seven-inch  terrapin  averaj^<:s 
four  pounds  in  w(;ij^fht.  "  Sliders,"  the  common  river  turtles  of 
almost  all  llv  rivers  of  the;  re^don,  j^row  to  a  uuicli  lar^aT  size. 
'rh<;y  s(.'ll  at  from  $6  to  $9  a  doz(;n,  and  arc  larj^cly  used  hy  hotels 
and  ntstaurants,  where  they  are  retailed  ;it  $1  and  $1.25  a  dish  as 
Ljcmuine  diamond-ljack  terrapin.  It  is  next  to  ImpossiMc  to  il;''!  a 
genuine  dish  of  terrapin  at  a  |>ul)lic  liousr.  The  one  or  two  people 
controlling  the  trade  sa)-  tli(;\'  sell  almost  exclusively  '('■^y  private 
tables. 

["(irrapin  are  caut^hl  all  the  wa\'  from  .Savannah  and  Charleston 
to  the  I'atapsco  River,  at  Baltimore,  liut  the  genuine  diamond-hack 
Ijelougs  only  to  the  uppii-  (  hcsape.ikc  and  its  trilmtarifs.  'I'lii- 
majoritv  of  the  sliders  are  lirought  lo  lialtiinore  from  the  James 
Kiv(.T.  The  t(;rrapin  (  atchers  make  from  $5  to  $50  pi'r  week,  arid 
they  lind  the  reptile,  or  "  liird,"  as  the  hnii  rv'rv//,/ calls  it,  hv  prohin^ 
the  mud  in  the  shallows  with  slicks.      The  terrapin   is  ilormanl,  and 


TH 


:h 

'(; 
II 


Canvas- Dnch  and  7'<ryapiii. 


747 


Airi.K     A    coon     DAYS     WORK. 


when  found  is  easily  s(;ciirc(I.  A  foiir-fiound  terrapin  taken  alioiit 
.Se|)leinher  i  5tli  will  exist  jirosperoiisly  in  a  dark,  cool  place,  without, 
food  or  drink,  until  April  i  ^ih,  and  (the  dealers  sa))  will  i^ain  two 
ounces  in  weij^ht.  After  that  time  it  iL,M;ts  livel>-  and  activ(;,  and  will 
take  hold  of  a  (iw^vs  with  jrreat  effusion  and  effectiven<;ss.  'i'he  niah- 
terrapin  is  kncjwn  as  a  "  hull  "  and  the  female  as  a  "  cow."  1  he 
latter  is  much  more  hij,dil\' pri/.(!(l,  and  ^enerall)- contains  aljoul  thirt)' 
^k*^}^^-  •^*'  <''^''  "f^  terrapin  is  thouj^dit  com|)l(;te  without  hein^r  f^^ar- 
nished  with  th(;se.  It  is  sad  to  be  compellcid  to  state  that  the  sinful 
restaurateur  and  hotel  man  l)etak<;s  him  to  th(!  etfi^  of  tin;  piLreon, 
wherc;with  to  s(;t  off  his  counterfeit  presentment  of  a  nohle  reptile. 

Thirty  years  aj.(o,  the  larL,a;st  deal(;r  in  I'altimon-  had  jiard  work 
to  dispose  of  the  t<-rra|)in  he  received  at  $^  a  do/en.  The  product, 
he  tells  me,  is  ahoul  tin;  same,  year  in  and  \-ear  out.  lie;  sells  as 
many  now  as  he  did  then.  Hut  old  people  on  tlv  eastern  |)eiiinsula 
brin_L(  to  mind  when  of  a  warm  day  the  terrapins,  haskin^,^  in  shoals  on 
the  surface;  ot  the  water,  were  cau^dit  in  seines  and  led  lo  the  pi.i^s. 
That  day,  however,  is  of  the  past,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  this  \alnable 
article  of  food  is  not  }^r;iduall\'  becomint(  e.xtinct.     'I'he  nei^njes  who 


„!, 


■i; 


iiil 


hr 


'I 


I         ■! 


ill 


!  i 


,       1 

h 

i 

i 
p 

f 

1 
I 

1 

748 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin. 


make  a  business  of  sendinjj;  them  to  market  complain  of  their  increas- 
inj^f  rarity,  and  nothing  but  the  high  price  has  stimulated  them  to 
keep  up  the  supply. 

The  negroes  are  credited  with  having  been  the  first  to  bring  the 
virtues  of  the  terrapin  to  notice.  They  cooked,  and  still  cook  it,  by 
placing  it  alive  among  the  hot  coals  or  in  an  oven.  When  it  is  suffi- 
ciently cooked,  the  under  shell  is  easily  removed  with  a  knife,  and  the 
contents  are  then  eaten  from  the  inverted  upper  shell,  nothing  being 
removed  but  the  gall -sac.     There  are   many,  particularly  epicures  of 


A  TERKAPIN  HUNTF.R  S  HOME. 


long  e.xperience  with  the  terrapin,  who  maintain  that  this  is  the  true 
way  to  cook  it.  One  noted  for  his  knowledge  of  Maryland  di.shes 
invariably  cooks  his  terrapin  as  follows:  He  places  a  "  count,"  alive, 
on  its  back  in  an  old-fashioned  ten-plate  stove,  roasts  it  until  the 
under  shell  is  easily  detached,  removes  the  gall,  adds  a  little  butter, 
salt,  and  a  glass  of  good  sherry  or  madeira,  and  then  eats  it,  with 
a  sense  as  of  a  Mussulman  discounting  the  delights  of  the  seventh 
heaven.      He  has  never  met  Mr.  Hergh. 

Baltimore  consumes  most  of  the  terrapins  caught.  Large  numbers 
are  shipped  to  New  York.  Delmonico  is  a  good  customer  of  the 
Baltimore  market,  and  Scoggins's  game  and  terrapin  depot  is 
seldom  without  a  box  or  two  addressed  to  the  New  York  restau- 
rant. With  all  due  respect  for  a  New  York  cuisine,  neither  the  ter- 
rapin 1  or  the  canvas-back  is  e\'er  the  same  when  eaten  away  from, 
so  to  speak,  its  native  heath.  There  is  an  indefinable  halo  of  origin- 
ality about  Maryland  cookery,  wholly  independent  of  the  process 
just  delicately  alluded  to  in  connection  with  terrapin,  that  obtains 
nowhere  else.  A  Maryland  tlinner  is  simjjlicity  itself,  but  it  would 
tax   tlie  capacity  of  the  "best  men"  of  a  New  York  club. 

Wasliington  eats  more  fish  than  any  other  city  in  the  United 
States  in  proportion  to  its  population,  but  Baltimore  probably  eats 


Canvas -Back  and  Terrapin . 


749 


more  j^rood  thinjfs  (Generally.  There  is  a  sort  of  refiiKil  l)arl)arisni 
about  such  a  incnn  as  that  of  a  plain  winter  ilinner  in  Maryland 
that  woultl  douiuless  vex  Mr.  l-'ehx  1  )eliee  and  iiis  confreres  of 
that  august  fraternity,  the  cordons  hlciis  *.">{  New  Yori<.  Hi^e  it  is. 
without  any  of  the  "ilUisions"  in  whicii  a  I'Vench  artist  wouUl  so 
like  to  enshroud  it:  "  I'Our  small  o\sters  from  L\nhav(.'n  Ha\'  (once 
opened,  they  would  ne\er  again  he  inclosed  in  the  self-same  shell); 
terrapin  a  In  Maryland;  canvas-hack  ducks;  a  small  sahul  of  cral) 
and  lettuce.  X'egetahles:  —  baked  Irish  potatoes:  fried  homin_\- 
cakes,  and  plain  celiTy."  If  this  shall  have  been  attended  b\- 
atlventitious  circumstances,  it  will  put  the  artificialities  of  refineil 
cookery  (jf  the  exalted  order  entirely  to  the  blush. 


1*. 

i' 


^ 


I., 


'ff' 


TKKKAl'IN     I-(1K    TllKEr,. 


IIIC 

r 


ill 


I'l 


)  iS 


lie   *: 


i 


A    DAY    WITH    THI<     RAILS. 


Hv    AI.I'kKI)    M.    MAVKR. 


SOON  after  the  Christmas  holidays,  sport  with  tloi^  and  j^ain 
ceases,  and  has  become  a  matter  for  reveries  before  the  evenini; 
fire,  where  scene  after  scene  comes  and  goes  with  the  invoUm- 
tary  action  of  the  mind,  as  it  recalls  those  hap|)y  days  of  sport  with 
conjrenial  and  manly  friends.  What  a  refreshment  the  mind  thus 
takes  to  itself!  What  a  respite  are  these  reveries  from  the  weariness 
of  routine  and  the  emptiness  and  heartlessness  of  conventional  life  ! 
The  pleasures  of  the  sportsman  do  not  end  with  his  sport,  no  more 
than  the  murmurs  of  the  rivulet  we  heard  last  summer  in  the  dejjths 
of  the  forests  cease  to  soothe  us  because  now  silenced  in  the  death 
of  winter. 

With  the  cool  evenings  of  September  the  sportsman  is  reminded 
of  the  apjjroaching  fall,  and  bethinks  himself  of  what  he  can  do  to  sat- 
isfy his  longing  for  his  favorite  pastime.  He  recollects  that  now  the 
wild  oats  are  turning  yellow  and  their  ripened  heads  are  waving 
over  the  marshes  and  borders  of  our  tidal  rivers.  Here  the  Soras, 
or  Carolina  rails,  are  fattening  into  delicious  morsels.  It  is  true  the 
sport  is  tame  compared  with  shooting  bob  white  or  woodcock  over 
"  Billy's "  sure  and  steady  point ;  but  the  gun  has  not  been  hand- 
led for  eight  months,  and  our  friend  thinks  the  practice  will  be  an 
easy  introduction  to  his  November  shooting ;  and  then  his  boy,  who 
can  already  hold  his  gun  pretty  well  on  clay  pigeons,  wishes  to  try 
his  Christmas  gift  on  real  birds,  and  what  can  be  better  for  his  first 
lesson  in  wing-shooting  than  a  day  with  the  rails  among  the  high, 
waving  water-oats?  He  will  surely  bring  man\'  birds  to  bag,  and 
he  will  ever  remembcT  in  after-life  the  pride  and   pleasure  he  hatl 


n, 


^  Day  10 i til  the  Rails. 


751 


when,  on  rcachinjr  home,  with  ht-amin}^  face  he  hastcncti  to  pre  sent 
his  mother  with  iiis  first  hai^  of  real  j,fame. 

When  tliey  readied  tlie  tavern  on  tlie  i)order  of  tiie  river,  tlu'\ 
were  jjjreeted  with  the  honest  huigh  of  tin;  innkeeper  and  iieart) 
siiakes  of  the  luinds  by  the  "pushers,"  who  rose  from  tiieir  seat  on 
the  veranda  to  welcome  tht:  {Gentleman  so  well  known  to  them  ;  for 
he  hatl  spent  many  s(."asons  in  shootinjr  over  these  marshes.  After 
much  talk  about  the  time  of  hii^h  water,  the  various  places  where 
rail  were  most  likely  to  be  abundant,  and  the  successt.'s  of  those 
sportsmen  who  had  just  left  for  home,  two  pushers  were  en^aj^ed  to 
be  in  readiness  soon  after  dinner,  for  the  shootiiiff-j^jround  selected 
(if  j.,'round  it  may  be  called)  was  over  three  miles  distant.  I'he 
pushers  came  soon  after  the  youth  had  unpacked  the  s^ams  and 
cartridj^^es,  had  donned  his  shooting-jacket,  and  had  got  his  fatluT's 
"traps"  in  shape  to  be  handily  carried  to  the  boats.  I  strongly  sus- 
jaect  that  these  preparations  had  so  fired  the  imagination  of  the 
youngster  with  anticipated  sport  that  he  had  not  had  so  much 
real  pleasure  in  a  twelvemonth.  He  met  the  pushers  as  the)' 
reached  the  river-bank.  The  two  boats  he  there  saw  were  flat- 
bottomed,  pointed  at  the  bow,  with  a  broad  stern  in  which  was  a 
roomy  seat  for  the  pusher  to  stand  on  while  he  plied  his  "gaft." 
This  is  the  name  given  to  the  pushing-pole,  from  twelve  to  fifteen 
feet  long,  and  fashioned  at  one  end  somewhat  like  the  gaff  to  which 
is  fastened  "the  head"  of  the  mainsail  of  a  sloop.  In  one  of  the 
boats  was  another  form  of  gaff,  whose  end  was  more  like  a  large 
gun-stock.  Both  gaffs  were  quite  broad,  so  that  in  crossing  small 
spaces  of  open  and  deep  water  the  pusher  can  use  them  (juite  effect- 
ively as  paddles. 

In  the  bow  of  each  boat  was  a  good-sized  basket,  covered  with 
a  canvas  flap,  and  holding  a  large  cigar-bo.x  containing  a  hundretl 
or  more  of  cartridges.  This  bo.x  was  tied  with  its  upper  i:i(S.\:i^K;. 
nearly  in  a  line  with  the  top  of  the  basket.  This  arrangement 
left  the  bottom  and  nearly  all  of  the  space  in  the  l)asket  free 
for  the  birds  ;  and  the  canvas  cover  shielded  these  from  the  sun 
and  the  cartridges  from  the  wet. 

Before  starting,  the  father  instructed  his  son  to  take  a  score  or 
so  of  cartridges  and  put  them  in  the  roomy  right-hand  ]>ocket  of 
his  shooting-jacket,   ex|)laining  that  they  would  thus  be  in   the-  most 


I 


'\   I 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


lit 


If a 

1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

< 6"     - 

► 

W^'W 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


^ 


•s^ 


% 


\ 


«- 


:\ 


\ 


^v 


0^  ''- 


6^ 


o"  ,,^  4^ 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


c^ 


-*■.■ 


V     > 


m 

hi '  it.  > 


752 


^  Day  with  the  Rails. 


convenient  position  in  loading;  for,  on  opening  the  gun,  the  right 
hand  unlocks  the  breech-action  while  the  left  holds  the  gun 
with  a  grasp  around  the  barrels  and  fore-end.  Thus  the  right 
hand  is  free  to  extract  the  exploded  shells  and  to  take  the  cartridges 
from  the  pocket  and  slip  them  into  the  breech  chambers  without  it 
being  necessary  to  relieve  the  left  hand's  grasp  on  the  gun.  Also, 
as  soon  as  the  gun  is  loaded,  the  left  hand  is  m  position  to  bring 
the  gun  to  the  shoulder  for  aim  and  fire.  Much  of  the  success 
of  rail-shooting  depends  on  the  rapidity  with  which  the  gunner  can 
take  advantage  of  shots  presented  by  numbers  of  birds  rising  in 
rapid  succession. 

In  the  bottom  of  the  boats  were  several  blocks  of  wood 
painted  white.  The  uses  of  these  the  young  sportsman  soon  found 
out. 

Before  starting,  they  wrapped  around  the  calf  of  their  right  legs 
several  folds  of  thick  flannel.  This  was  to  act  as  a  sort  of  buffer  to 
rest  against  the  edge  of  the  seat  just  forward  of  midship,  before 
which  they  were  to  stand  in  shooting.  The  calf  of  the  right  leg 
rested  against  it,  with  the  left  leg  placed  well  forward,  but  all  without 
any  stiffness  of  posture.  When  the  ooat  is  shoved  forward  by  the 
pusher,  it  moves  through  the  resisting  oats  with  a  sort  of  jerk,  and 
the  calf  of  the  right  leg  of  the  gunner  is  thrown  at  each  push 
back  against  the  edge  of  the  seat  which  braces  him.  The  wearing 
of  the  flannel,  though  not  absolutely  necessary,  and  by  some  prob- 
ably regarded  as  effeminate,  will  add  greatly  to  the  comfort  of 
a  day's  shooting,  in  the  course  of  which  the  leg  receives  a  great 
many  rubs  and  thumps. 

During  the  trip  to  the  shooting-grounds,  the  pusher,  who  was 
now  also  guardian  and  instructor  to  the  son  of  an  old  patron,  laid 
down  various  precepts  which  the  youngster  was  to  follow  in  rail- 
shooting,  interspersed  with  many  interesting  anecdotes  illustra- 
ting the  curious  hal)its  of  these  interesting  litde  birds.  He  told 
his  puj)!!  that  he  must  stand  at  ease,  with  his  legs  not  too  stiff,  so 
that  he  should  |)reserve  an  upright  position  ;  and  that  he  must  keep 
his  feet  steadily  in  one  position  while  he  was  ready  with  his  gun  to 
shoot;  that  he  must  be  quick  with  his  gun,  for  a  bird  would  often 
rise  at  twenty  yards  or  more  away  and  merely  flit  up.  and  then 
drop  down  in  the  oats ;  but  that  he  must  let  a  bird  get  off  some  dis- 


,i  ;*', 


►f 


...  /*•  .  ^ 


-<>wrt^5||jrt,i 


48 


MALI      AMI     IIMAII      \i.\]\„ 
riRA'.VN     liv    J.\Ml:s    (  .    111. AKI) 


Mi 


i 


A  Day  with  the  Rails. 


755 


tance  if  he  w.as  flushed  quite  near  the  boat,  for  otherwise  his  shot 
would  blow  him  to  pieces. 

Arriving  at  the  edge  of  the  marsh,  the  pushers  shipped  their 
oars,  and,  plunging  the  broad  butts  of  their  gaffs  into  the  mud.  with 
strong  and  skillful  arms  they  sent  the  boats  into  the  midst  of  the 
water-oats. 

As  they  entered  the  oats,  the  youth  stood  up  in  the  boat,  and  was 
gazing  with  that  steady,  wide-awake,  and  all-around  look  so  well 
known  to  those  who  have  watched  a  sportsman  in  the  act  of  flushing 
a  bird.  He  held  his  gun  with  the  muzzle  pointing  upward.  His 
left  hand  was  well  forward  on  the  fore-end,  with  the  forefinger  of 
his  right  under  the  trigger-guard.  The  pusher  at  once  took  in  the 
pose,  and  saw  that  his  father  had  been  schooling  him.  The  ne.\t 
instant  a  thrill  was  sent  through  the  young  sportsman  as  two  birds 
sprung  from  the  oats  —  one  directly  in  front  of  him,  the  other  on  his 
left  quarter.  The  first  he  fired  at  instantly  and  blew  to  pieces.  In 
his  haste  to  get  the  other,  he  shifted  his  left  foot,  tilted  the  boat,  and 
then  shot  under  the  bird.  The  old  pusher  here  stopped  his  boat, 
and,  leaning  on  his  gafl",  said: 

"  Well !  that's  a  good  lesson.  I  had  no  idee  you'd  'a'  shewn  oft" 
the  good  pints  I  give  you  so  soon.  I  tell  you  ag'in  to  give  the  near 
bird  time  before  shootin',  and  when  you  take  a  side  shot  don't  take 
a  step  in  dancin'.  But  the  bird's  'a  count,'  so  I'll  jist  find  his  head 
to  show  your  father  that  you  killed  your  first  bird." 

They  had  not  gone  over  twenty  yards  farther  when  three  rails 
sprung  up.  The  first  that  caught  the  boy's  eye  was  the  one  which, 
with  a  rather  rapid  rate,  went  to  the  right.  This  he  fired  at  and  missed. 
The  other  bird  flew  to  the  left,  and  this  one  he  killed  cleanly.  The 
pusher  "marked"  and  "boated"  this  bird,  and  then  went  for  the 
bird  first  shot  at.  Though  he  had  accurately  markeil  him  down,  he 
failed  to  flush  him  on  approaching  the  spot.  The  pusher  said  the 
rail  had  gone  under  the  water  and  was  no  doubt  (|uite  near,  cling- 
ing to  a  submerged  stalk  with  his  beak  just  above  water,  and  that  it 
was  useless  to  try  to  flush  him,  for  he  wt)uld  allow  the  boat  to  go 
over  him  before  he  would  take  wing.  He  said  the  rails  often  acted 
in  this  manner  after  they  had  been  flushed  and  shot  at,  or  when 
they  had  been  slightly  wounded.  .Sometimes,  however,  even  when 
they   had   not  been   already   flushed,    they   would   remain   perfectly 


I 


5  t  ■' 


i 


756 


-7  Day  'with  tlic  Kails. 


m\ 


1? 


I'l'SIIKK. 


(juiet  till  the  boat  had  approached  near  them,  and  then  would  quickly 
swim  to  one  side,  in  case  the  water  was  not  too  thickly  studded  with 
oat-stalks. 

The  next  shots  were  at  a  flock  of  reeii-hirds,  which  rost;  in  a 
compact  cloud  not  twelve  yards  from  the  jfunner.  As  he  had  been 
forewarned  of  their  presence  by  the  pusher,  he  was  on  his  ^uard, 
and  so  reserved  his  fire  till  the  birds  were  twenty  yards  distant, 
when,  in  quick  succession,  he  emptied  both  barrels  at  them.  The 
flock  ilid  not  seem  much  diminished  by  his  shots,  and  he  was 
much  surprised  when,  shortly  afterwanl,  the  pusher  and  he  had 
gathereil  in  more  than  thirty  liirils — a  tlainty  dinner.  The  pusher 
could  not  help  expressinj^  his  surprise  at  the  want  of  delij^dit  in  the 
youth    at    such    a    rocord    for    his    two   shots,    but    .ijave    a   merry 


n 


I 


,t  Ddv  "dutli  the  Rai/s. 


757 


chuckle,  with  "  A  clii|)  <»f  the  oKI  block,"  when  the  Ixjy  toKl  him  that 
he  had  rather  kill  (Jiie  bird  flyinj^  swiftly  acntss  than  brinj,'  tifty  to 
bajij  out  of  a  fl«)ck. 

"  Mark !  teal."  said  the  pusher,  as  In*  caujfhi  si^du  of  three  blue- 
winjfed  teal  coniiii;^  swiftly  ilown  the  river. 

The  youth  hati  just  time  to  charj^e  his  y;un  with  a  cartridj^re  of 
No.  4  shot,  which  he  took  out  of  his  left-hand  pocket,  and  to  brin^' 
his  j^rim  to  bear  on  the  teal  as  they  passetl  him  on  the  left  at  about 
forty  yards  distant.  Hanj;!  antl  with  <|uickeneil  winj,'s  they  passed 
unscathed. 

"  Why.  1  held  directly  on  that  rear  birti,"  saiil  the  crest-fallen 
youth. 

"If,"  saiil  the  pusher,  "you  hatI  held  directly  on  the  leailer,  you 
mi^ht  have  killed  the  bird  you  fired  at.  \'ou  must  hoKl  two  yards 
ahead  of  those  birds  Hyinj^  across  at  that  ilistancd.  Now  sit  down, 
and  I'll  take  you  to  the  other  shore ;  but  remember,  it  is  there  not 
sheltf-red  from  the  winil  as  in  this  cove,  amonj.^  thesi-  hills  and  hi}.jh 
trees,  and  the  birds  will  fly  faster,  and  it  may  be  that,  when  the 
wind  catches  them,  some  of  them  will  twist  as  they  }^o,  in  a  way  like 
snipe." 

.And  so  it  hap|)ened :  the  rail  risinjLj  wildly  and  speedinji;  away 
with  astonishinjL;  rapidit)-  for  a  bird  jrenerali)  so  shijfi^ish  in  flij^ht. 
Here  the  youlii  met  with  many  disappointments  ;  but  hi-  was  youn^ 
and  ambitious,  and  it  tloes  not  take  loni;  for  an  intelligent  youth  to 
profit  by  failures — in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure. 

"  I've  the  knack  of  it  now." 

"(lood  shot!"  said  the  pusher,  as  the  yount^sttT  cleanl\-  killiul  a 
cross-flyinj^j  bird  at  thirty  yanl.s. 

"  Yes,  I  held  over  a  foot  ahead  of  him." 

"That's  r\^\\\..  Did  you  see  the  other  birtI  stud  across  the 
river  ?  Who  wouki  have  thouj^ht  that  was  a  rail  ?  You  see  how 
an  easterly  winil  can  make  them  go." 

"1  suppose."  said  the  boy.  "that's  the  waj-  they  !!>  when  the 
first  frost  chills  them,  and  they  all  leave  between  sunset  and  sunrise. 
Father  says  they  migrate  in  the  fall  to  great  distances,  going  even 
beyond  the  southern  borders  of  our  country,  to  the  West  Indies,  and 
that  they  hav<'  been  known  to  alight  on  ships  when  over  a  hundred 
miles  distant  from  the  nearest  land." 
48A 


» 1 


% 


u 


m 

iSij 


ilf 


'  r! 


I 


758 


A  Dav  with  the  Rails. 


RAII.-SIIOOTING. 


With  varyinjj  successes  and  failures,  the  youth  shot  till  the  tide 
had  fallen  so  low  that  the  birds  had  (Miouj^h  near  ground  to  retreat 
to  when  the  boat  approached  them  and  they  would  not  take  wing. 

And  thus  ended  the  boy's  first  lesson  in  the  marshes.  To  say 
he  was  proud,  notwithstanding  his  lost  teal,  would  do  him  injustice. 
He  thought  more  of  how  happ)'  he  was  to  know  that  hereafter  he 
could  be  a  companion  to  lis  father  when  he  ran  away  from  the  con- 
fusion and  cares  of  the  city  for  three  or  four  days'  relaxation  in  the 
brown  autumn  fields,  or  when  he  left  in  summer  for  two  or  three 
weeks'  sojourn  in  the  depths  of  the  northern  woods. 

On  entering  the  oats,  the  father's  boat  had  taken  a  different 
direction  from  that  of  his  son's,  till  they  were  separated  by  fifty 
yards  or  more.  Thus  no  danger  could  ensue  should  the  youngster, 
in  the  heat  of  sport,  shoot  toward  his  father.  As  a  further  precau- 
tion against  danger,  the  youth's  gun,  a  16-gauge  6  lb.  breech- 
loader, was  charged  with  only  2  drachms  of  powder  and  '4  oz.  of  No. 
12  shot,  the  finest  made,  except  "dust-shot."  His  father  shot  a  12- 
gauge  gun,  loaded  with  2  5i'  drachms  of  powder  and  i  ounce  of  No. 
10  shot.     He  also  had  in  his  boat  another  gun  of  lo-gauge,  charged 


A  Day  luith  the  Rails. 


759 


with  4  drachms  of  powder  and  i  Yt,  ounces  of  No.  4  shot,  in  reserve, 
in  case  a  flock  of  teals  should  spring  up  before  him  or  fly  over- 
head as  they  "  traded  "  up  or  down  the  river.  He  had  not  gone  far 
into  the  oats  before  the  rail  began  to  spring  up  above  the  tops  of 
the  oats,  and  then  flutter  away  with  ilrooping  legs.  Two  rose  in 
front  of  him,  and  he  quickly  cut  them  down.  He  had  no  sooner 
reloaded,  when  three  birds  rose,  two  of  which  fell  to  his  aim.  The 
pusher  now  threw  two  of  his  painted  blocks  to  the  spot  where 
the  first  two  fell,  and  pushed  for  the  brace  which  had  just  tumbled. 
These  were  soon  found,  and  he  then  sought  his  blocks  on  the 
right,  and.  finding  these,  he  soon  picked  up  the  two  rails  quite  near 
them. 

Thus,  without  a  miss,  the  father  killed  29  birds  ;  the  30th  he 
lost  by  the  boat  taking  a  rapid  jerk  forward  in  water  rather  free  of 
oats  just  as  he  discharged  his  gun.  The  result  of  his  day's  s|)ort 
was  105  Carolina  rails,  brought  to  boat  with  1 16  shots.  He  missed 
six  birds,  and  the  pusher  failed  to  find  five  others  which  he  killed. 
He  also  brought  to  bag  five  teals,  three  coots,  and  one  king-rail. 


V.v.r.    OF    TIIF.    (  XROIINA    RAIL. 


ill'   *''* 


■M 


"W 


i 

1 

'St;  : 
5'  ((  1 


WILD    Tl  RK  i:\-S  MOOT  I  N(;, 


IJv    JAMKS    (;OKI)ON. 


TIIK  wikl  turkey,  Me/cas^ris  Hallopavo,  the  noblest  species  of 
American  jfanie  birds,  is  common  throujriiout  the  South  and 
West,  and  yet  is  so  wild  that  its  habits  are  but  little  known. 
The  writer,  allhouj^h  an  experienced  hunter,  finds  each  year  some- 
thinj^  new  to  learn  concerninj,^  its  pi-cidiarities. 

Our  wild  turkey  takes  little  care  in  the  preparation  of  a  nest.  I 
have  often  found  them  sittinjj  on  the  bare  ^^round  in  ex|)osed  posi- 
tions. Yet  they  are  very  tenacious  when  sittinjf,  and  will  allow  a 
man  to  apjjroach  (juile  near  before  they  will  leave  their  e^gs.  It  is 
jjfenerally  believed  that  our  domestic  turkey  owes  its  orij^in  to  our 
common  wild  turkey,  M.  Hallopavo.  Kven  the  {jjreat  ornitholoj^nst 
Audubon  falls  into  this  error.  Our  domestic  turkey  is  deriveil  from 
the  wild  turkt.-y  of  Mexico,  Mchai^ris  A/cxiru/ia,  which  is  a  coarser 
fowl  than  the  wild  turkey  of  America  ;  but  it  is  easily  tamed,  while 
the  American  turkey,  like  the  Indian,  is  untameable.  They  can, 
indeed,  be  made  cpiilO  j^rentle,  when  hatched  by  a  barn-yard  fowl 
and  fed  from  the  hand,  init  such  is  their  propensity  to  ramble  that 
they  ultimately  stray  off  and  become  wild  aj^ain. 

If  you  have  never  seen  a  wild  turkey,  do  not  take  his  plebeian 
cousin  of  the  barn-yaril  for  a  model,  for  they  are  very  unlike.  I  lis  voice 
is  as  iliffiTiMit  as  the  crow  of  the  i^^une-cock  from  the  Shanijhai.  The 
domestic  turkey's  ifobblc  is  coarse  and  tlisaj^reeable,  while  the  t^obble 
of  the  wild  turkey  is  as  shrill  and  clear  as  the  note  of  a  cavalry 
bustle.  When  heartl  at  early  dawn  in  the  still  fon.'st,  it  is  sinjj[ularly 
sharp  and  piercinjf.  It  seems  to  strike  upon  the  senses  rather  than 
upon  the  ear,  penetratintj  the  nerves  of  the  hunter  with  a  thrill  of 


//7/(fi'  Turkey- Shooting. 


761 


pleasurable  emotion.  If  you  will  come  to  the  South  and  accom|)any 
me  some  morninjf  in  the  sprinj,'.  which  is  the  j^'ohhlin;^  s«-as(>n,  w«'  will 
seek  his  haunts.  If  there  is  a  larj^e  cr(r«'k  bottom  near,  we  will  look 
for  him  there.  We  reach  the  foot  of  the  hills  at  ilawn  ;  claylij^'ht  is 
bejfinninj^  to  appear  in  the  east,  and  the  stars  are  fatlinj,'  from  sijfht. 
Now,  if  thtre  is  on«;  in  hearinjf,  \\v  will  make  him  j^'obble ;  this  we 
do  by  imitatinj,'  the  hoot  of  the  barred  owl.  Instantly  a  clear.  n)llinj,' 
j^obble  responils, — "j^ood-a,  j^ootl-a,  j^ood-a,  ^(xul-a.  ^ooil," — others 
reply,  and  for  a  mile  above  and  below  is  heard  the  n-frain. 

'!"(»  which  one  shall  we  j^o."*  We  hoot  aj^ain,  and  listi-n  intently 
to  the  rtrply  ;  then,  selectinj^  the  fattest,  proceed  in  his  direction. 
You  ask  how  w(;  know  which  is  th*-  fattest  ?  Not  a  diffu  nil  task  at 
all  for  an  e.xpc-rienceil  sportsman  ;  the  more  shrill  and  sharp  the 
gobble,  the  more  fat  there  is  on  his  breast :  when  the  breast -sponj^e 
is  not  covered  with  fat,  the  j^obbli;  is  hoarse  and  flabby.  We  stop 
occasionally  to  be  sure  of  our  course,  as  we  slip  forward  as  rapidly 
and  noiselessly  as  possible.  When  near  enou;rh  to  hear  his  strut, 
we  pause  to  listen.  The  wooils,  that  before  seemed  so  still,  are  now 
alive  with  noises.  The  whip-poor-will  is  wailinjj^  its  plaintive  sonj^, 
and  every  bird,  that  was  sleepinjf  so  (piietly  a  few  minutes  aj^o.  is 
now  fussinj^  around  with  the  morninj;  ^reetinj^s  to  his  drowsy  mate. 
Concealed  by  the  folia^^eof  a  wide  beech,  we  peer  throuj^h  the  misty 
shadows,  and  behold  him  standing  on  the  limb  of  a  lofty  c\  press. 
We  watch  him  suck  the  air  to  inflate  his  winilba},^,  then  hi;ar  him 
emit  a  pulmonic  puff  and  drum,  and  he  immediately  lowers  his  tail 
and  winj^s.  Many  think  the  strut  of  the  turkey-cock  is  macU;  by 
scrapinjjf  thi-  tips  of  his  flijfht  feathers.  This  is  a  mistak<? ;  he  merely 
touches  the  j^^round  with  the  tips  of  his  winj^^s.  The  strut  is  made  by 
forcinjf  the  air  out  of  the  windba,l,^  He  has  selected  his  position 
in  the  cypress,  because  cypress  brakes  are  always  surrounded  b\ 
water,  which  protects  him  from  the  approach  of  the  wild-cat  and 
coon,  as  they  prowl  about  durinj^  the  niijht :  besides,  anythiuji;  wad 
inj;  in  water  makes  a  noise,  anil  the  turkey  is  a  li.i,du  sleeper.  Ik- 
cautious,  too,  how  you  walk,  for  around  these  marshy  slouj^hs  the 
slimy  moccasin  and  deadly  cotton-mouth  lie;  in  their  coils  reaily  to 
strike  their  (envenomed  fani^s  into  the  foot  of  the  intruder.  .Some- 
times the  turkey  can  be  shot  on  his  roost,  and  many  are  killed  in 
this  way,  especially  by  hunters,  who  watch  them  fly  up  to  roost,  and 


i 


'iiii'  M 


■fii 


Ifr 


m 


W 


762 


// '/'/(/  '/  urkvy-  Shooting. 


shoot  tlu-m  hy  moonlij^lu.  Not  liciii),'  afraiil  of  cattle,  they  are  easily 
approached  after  dark  hy  a  man  with  a  cow-hell  tieil  on  his  arm.  It 
is  now  hroail  dayli^du.  anil  as  we  are  as  near  as  we  can  j^et  without 
frij,'htenin^  hini,  let  us  conceal  ourselves  until  he  flies  down.  He  is 
roostinj^  low  ;  a  fat  j^'ohhler  does  not  like  to  fly  hijjh. 

Now  he  alij^hls  on  the  ^'round,  anil  stands  like  a  hron/e  statue 
lookinjf  for  some  lurkinj^  foe.  We  now  take  our  yelper,  and  j^ive  a 
few  sharp  yelps  ;  he  hears  the  call,  and,  spreadinj;  his  tail  like  a  fan. 
drops  his  jrray  flight  feathers  until  they  tip  the  earth,  struts  and 
j^fobbles.  He  is  cominj^  leisurely  and  cautiously  toward  us  ;  now  a 
hen  yelps  on  the  other  side,  and  he  pauses  between  the  two  calls, 
then  struts  and  j^obbles  aj^ain.  The  hen  is  impatient  for  the  caresses 
of  her  jjallant,  and  runs  to  him ;  the  others  j^ather  around,  and  with 
his  harem  he  wanders  off  to  his  feed inj,f-j,' rounds,  rej,Mrdless  of  the 
seductive  calls  of  the  hen  left  behind.  We  hear  him  jfobblinjj  in  the 
distance,  and  follow  very  cautiously,  taking  advantaj^'e  of  every 
thicket  to  screen  our  approach. 

We  call  ajfain,  and  hear  in  reply,  instead  of  a  gobble,  a  bungling 
attempt  at  a  hen-call,  made  by  some  backwoodsman.  The  gobbler 
had  detected  the  fraud  and  left.  Fearing  we  might  be  mistaken  for 
a  turkey  and  shot  at,  as  once  happened  to  the  writer,  we  approach 
the  woodsman,  and  while  talking  with  him  hear  the  gobbler  a  long 
way  off,  and  immediately  set  out  after  him,  our  well-trained  |)ointer 
creeping  at  our  heels.  The  morning  has  passed,  and  the  turkeys  have 
left  the  bottoms  and  sought  the  ridges,  where  the  leaves  have  been 
burnt  off  by  the  farmers  that  the  grass  may  grow  early  for  pasturage. 
In  thi;  burnt  woods  it  is  difficult  to  approach  very  near,  as  all  the 
undergrowth  is  destroyed  ;  and  this  is  the  place  he  selects  to  spend 
his  nooning,  where  he  can  pick  the  tender  grass  and  gather  bugs 
and  grasshop|)ers  with  no  fear  of  being  surprised.  The  hens,  one 
by  one,  have  stolen  off  to  their  nests,  and  now  he  only  gobbles  at 
long  intervals,  but  will  continue  strutting  occasionally  all  day. 
("letting  his  location,  we  slip  carefully  around  a  ridge,  and  reaching 
a  point  without  being  seen,  near  enough  to  be  heard  by  him,  give  a 
cluck  and  gulp  like  a  hen  that  has  just  left  her  nest.  Having  caught 
the  note  of  a  hen  in  the  morning,  we  imitate  her  voice.  This  is  one 
of  the  perfections  in  the  art  of  turkey-calling:  no  two  leaves  of  the 
forest  are   alike,    nor  are   any   two   voices  of  birds  or  men   alike. 


//  ■//(/  '/'itHxry-S/iootiug. 


763 


one 

L's  at 

clay. 


A  very  dclicatf  oar,  trainoti  to  catch  tlu:  somuls  of  tlic  wooils, 
can  clfti'ct  tlic  slij^rjurst  |K:culiarity  in  the  note  of  a  turki-y-hen; 
ami  as  thi;  }fol)l)ler  catches  the  ianiihar  sound,  he  j,'ol)l)les,  Itnt 
remains  standing  erect  as  a  statue  of  patii-nti-,  lie  has  been 
deceivcil  by  hunters  Ijefore,  l)ut  tliis  call  was  so  like  oni-  ol"  his 
wives  that,  in  spite  of  his  suspicious  nature,  he  almost  n.solves  to 
«;()  to  her ;  hut  still  he  stands  anil  listins.  A  less  e.\perienc'i:d  hunter 
would  call  aj,fain  ;  hut  we  remain  (piiel  a  lon)^  time.  I'atienci-  is  the 
j.;ri'at  secret  in  the  art  of  turkey-lumtinj;.  ili;  becomes  impatient, 
and  }^rol)l)les.  Still  no  answer.  Then  a  low,  seiluctive  call,  as  much  as 
to  say,  very  co(|uettishly,  it  is  immaterial,  .Sir  l\nij,du,  whether  you 
come  or  not.  He  has  located  the  call,  and  ileciiles  to  <;(>  to  it.  A 
younj^  gobbler  has  joined  him  who  ilares  not  strut  in  his  presence, 
but  precedes  the  old  cock,  who  struts  leisurely  behind,  using  the 
young  gobbler  as  a  guard  in  front.  They  are  still  approaching  very 
cautiously.  In  the  meantime,  the  hunter  is  stretcheil  on  his  back, 
with  his  head  and  shoulders  resting  against  the  foot  of  a  giant  oak. 
his  gun  on  his  knees,  and  his  ilog  crouched  low  Inside  him.  Tlujy 
are  now  close  enough  for  a  shot.  \  novice  would  have  shot  at  the 
foremost ;  the  skilled  hunter  aims  at  the  head  of  the  hindmost. 
I""or  two  reasons:  first,  he  is  the  largest;  second,  it  will  leave  the 
remaining  turkey  nearer  for  the  second  barrel.  At  the  crack  of  the 
gun,  the  old  bird  falls  flopping  to  earth  in  a  death  struggle,  with  a 
load  of  No.  6  shot  in  his  head.  The  other  runs  off  as  fast  as  his 
legs  can  carry  him.  He  has  not  even  time  to  rise  and  fly,  before 
the  other  barrel,  loaded  with  H.  Hs,  cuts  him  down. 

Let  us  go  again  in  the  afternoon,  and  see  if  we  can  find  a  gobbler 
on  his  feeding-grounds.  We  try  our  callers,  but  hear  no  answer. 
We  then  call  fast  and  loud,  like  a  hen  that  had  returned  from  her 
nest  among  the  hills  and,  fnuling  no  company  in  the  bottom,  feels 
lonesome.  A  long  silence  follows;  we  arc-  temiHeil  to  call  again,  but 
experience  has  taught  us  that  too  much  calling  at  this  hour  will 
e.xcite  suspicion.  Presently  we  hear  the  puff  and  drum  of  the  strut, 
and  we  know  he  has  heard  our  call,  and  is  looking  for  us.  Now  he 
passes  within  short  range.  Do  not  move;  before  you  could  raise 
your  gun  he  would  dart  behind  a  tree  and  be  off  like  a  shot.  J-fe  is 
passing  a  tree  ;  now.  while  he  is  behind  it,  place  you  gun  in  position. 
He  steps  out.  you  fire  at  his  head,  and  the  white  turban  sinks  to 


1 


i 

>'-           ; 

1 

i' 

1 

^  -li 

764 


IVihi  Turkey-Shooting. 


earth.  The  sun  is  now  low  on  the  horizon  ;  let  us  go  clown  by  the 
cypress  breaks ;  perhaps  we  can  roost  one.  Again  we  are  (juietly 
seated,  and  in  a  little  while  hear  the  flopping  of  wings ;  they  are 
flying  up  to  roost.  We  might  now  slip  under  the  roost  and  shoot ;  but 
this  is  unsportsmanlike ;  so  we  will  (juietly  retire,  and  return  in  the 
morning  and  try  our  skill  in  calling  a  gobbler  down.  There  are  many 
ways  of  hunting  turkeys.  1  have  sometimes  used  a  tame  gobbler  as 
a  decoy.  The  wild  gobblers,  when  they  hear  the  strut  and  gobble  of 
a  strange  turke)-,  will  come  forward  to  give  battle  to  the  intruder. 
Then  they  are  hunted  with  ilogs.  A  gobbler  can  be  run  down 
and  caught  with  hounds ;  he  is  a  heavy  bird,  and  after  two  or 
three  flights  cannot  rise  to  fly  again.  After  the  spring  season  is 
past,  the  gobblers  cease  gobbling  and  wander  about  alone,  or  in 
small  flocks,  until  after  the  young  broods  are  large  enough  to  take 
care  of  themselves ;  then  they  gather  together  in  large  flocks 
as  the  fall  comes  on.  .At  this  season,  they  are  hunted  with  dogs. 
A  well-trained  pointer  who  runs  silently  on  the  track  and  dashes 
in  and  scatters  the  flock  with  a  quick  bark  is  the  best  for  this 
servfce.  .After  the  flock  is  scattered,  the  hunter  conceals  himself, 
and  in  a  little  while  they  will  begin  to  call  together.  If  it  is  in  the 
early  fall,  they  make  a  note  like  pci\  pee,  pec.  As  they  grow 
older,  the  call  is  coarser.  They  are  t;asily  called  up  and  killed  at 
this  season.  Even  a  novice  may  deceive  a  young  turkey  that  has 
never  been  hunted.  The  instruments  used  for  turkey-calls  are  vari- 
ous ;  the  wing-bone  of  a  turkey  is  the  most  primitive  instrument,  or 
the  vibration  of  a  leaf  placed  against  the  lips.  I  use  a  hollow  tube 
or  a  block  with  a  piece  of  wire  scraped  against  a  whet-stone. 


THE    SH()T-(;UN. 


Hv    ALFRKI)    M.    MAVKR. 


WHEN  the  great  amount  of  eiiefi,ry  pent  up  in  _<,run powder 
hatl  become  j,n-nerally  known  in  Europe,  tluring  the  four- 
teenth century,  men  began  to  exercise  their  minils  in  the 
invention  of  cannon  and  hanil-arms  that  could  withstand  and  threct 
this  tremendous  force.  It  is  ([uite  interesting  to  find  that  the  can- 
nons of  the  fourteenth  century  were  breech-loaders.  In  the  sixteenth 
century  both  breech-loaders  and  muzzle-loatlers  were  in  general  use. 
Hand  fire-arms  were  also  used  in  the  fourteenth  century.  They 
were  calletl  bombardes.  The  bombarde  was  simpl\-  a  barrel  fixed  to 
a  stock,  and  fired  from  the  shoulder.  Later,  this  arm  was  supplanted 
by  the  hantl-culverin,  a  rather  heav)'  arm  weighing  from  ten  to  fifty 
pounds.  Its  bore  was  about  three-fourths  of  an  inch.  It  was  fired 
from  a  forked  rest.  Two  men  were  required  to  use  the  piece  ;  one 
to  hold  and  aim  it.  the  other  to  apply  the  fire  to  the  touch-hole  and 
to  help  to  carry  and  load  it.  During  the  fifteenth  century  these 
arms  appear  to  have  been  extensively  used,  for  at  the  battle  of  Morat, 
1476,  the  .Swiss  were  armed  with  6000  culverins. 

The  gun  retained  the  form  of  the  culverin  till  the  early  part  of 
the  sixteenth  century,  when  the  Spaniards  invented  the  arquebus. 
This  gun  had  a  longer  barrel  and  smaller  bore  than  the  culverin. 
In  the  forepart  of  the  stock  was  hinged  the  "serpentine,"  which 
carried  a  slow-match.  The  latter  was  lighted  at  a  match  burning  on 
the  top  of  the  barrel,  and  then,  on  depressing  the  neck  of  the  serpen- 
tine by  pulling  (what  was  the  counterpart  of)  the  trigger,  the  pow- 
der was  set  fire  to  in  the  side  flash-pan.  Lat(;r,  the  serpentine  was 
divided  into  two  parts,  the  lower  part  forming  a  trigger,  the  upper  a 


W'M 


■  ft 


I    i 


766 


T/te  Slwt-Gnn. 


MECHANISM    OK    THE    MAlCH-l.OCK. 


hammer  which  was  sent  for- 
ward by  a  spring  on  pull- 
ing the  trigger.  This,  the 
match-lock,  is  the  first  and 
the  simplest  of  gun  locks. 

In  1515,  a  notable  im- 
provement in  fire-arms  was 
made  at  Nuremburg  in  the  invention  of  the  wheel-lock,  by  which  fire 
was  obtained  by  the  friction  of  flint  against  pyrites,  a  method  of  pro- 
curing fire  which  Kuropeans  had  used  since  prehistoric  times.  A  steel 
wheel,  H,  with  a  grooved  and  roughened  edge,  was  set  in  rapid  rota- 
tion by  the  action  of  a  spring  coiled  in  its  interior.  This  wheel  was 
wound  up  by  a  key  turning  the  axis  C.  The  piece  of  pyrites,  E, 
carried  in  the  hammer,  1),  was  thrown  onto  the  rotating 
wheel  when  the  trigger  was  pulled.  The  friction  of  these 
substances  caused  a  stream  of  sparks  to  fly  into  the  flash- 
pan.  The  wheel-lock  greatly 
increased  the  rapidity  of  fire, 
especially  at  game  which  unex- 
pectedly came  in  sight;  it  also 
allowed  the  marksman  to  use 
freely  both  hands  in  aiming 
and  firing  his  piece. 

With  the  improvement  of  the  wheel-lock,  the  gun  began  to  sup- 
plant the  long-bow  and  cross-bow  among  European  sportsmen.  The 
invention  of  "hail-shot,"  about  1550,  added  to  the  popularity  of  the 
gun  (Which  now  first  became  a  shot-gun)  by  giving  greater  success 
to  the  sportsman  when  shooting  at  moving  game.  Hut  the  long- 
bow and  the  arbalest  by  no  means  disappeared  from  the  hands  of 
sportsmen  or  from  the  armies  of  Europe.  The  bow  had  its  peculiar 
advantage  over  the  shot-gun  as  a  hunting  arm  in  being  noiseless, 
and  its  inexpensiveness  placed  it  within  the  reach  of  all  who  were 
privileged  to  carry  arms.  Besides,  in  those  days,  the  art  of  shooting 
on  the  wing  was  unknown  :  and  at  still  game,  the  arrow  launched 
from  the  long-bow  of  a  skillful  archer  was  probably  as  effective 
as  the  wheel-lock  gun.  The  kUluig  range  of  the  arrows  of  the 
long-bow,  their  accuracy  of  flight,  and  the  rapidity  with  which 
they  could  be  discharged,  gave  the  long-bow  the  glory  of  holding 


IHK.    fJKRMAN    WHKKI.-I.OCK. 


'M  , 


The  Sliot-Ciim. 


767 


srANISII     I  I.IN  l-I.OCK. 


its  own  against  fire-arms  lonjj^  after  their  introduction  into  armies 
of  Europe.  It  is  stated  tinit  an  Hnjj^lish  archer  could  pierce  any 
armor  at  two  hundred  yards  distant,  except  that  made  of  Milan 
or  the  best  Spanish  plate ;  and  the  ancient  accounts  of  men  in 
armor  havinjj;^  1)een  shot  through  is  confirmed  by  breast  and  back 
plates,  in  European  museums,  perforated  with  arrow-lToles.  Indeed, 
so  well  did  the  English  appreciate  the  peculiar  excellence  of  the 
long-bow  as  a  military  arm,  that  it  retained  a  place  in  their  army 
even  as  late  as  1627. 

The  wheel-lock  hunting  arm  received  improvements  in  work- 
manship and  in  matters  of  detail,  but 
remained  essentially  the  same  for  a  cent- 
ury, when,  in  1630,  the  flint-lock  was  in- 
vented in  Spain.  To  Spanish  artisans  are 
also  due  great  advances  in  the  manu- 
facture of  gun-barrels,  in  which  art  they 
continued  to  improve  so  much  that  those 
of  their  best  artisan,  Nicholas  Hiz,  of  Mad- 
rid, sold  as  high  as  two  hundred  dollars. 

The  flint-lock  fowling-piece  held  its  own  during  two  centuries, 
during  which  period  it  was  gradually  improved  in  all  its  parts, — in 
the  texture  and  chambering  of  the  barrels,  in  the  locks,  and  in  the 
general  proportions  of  the  gun, — till  it  reached  the  zenith  of  its  ex- 
cellence, about  1H15,  "when,"  says  Mr.  W.  W.  (ireener  ("The  (jun 
and  its  Development"),  "the  renowned  Joseph  Manton  —  the  king 
of  gun-makers — had  so  improved  and  added  to  its  mechanism  as  to 
make  a  first-rate  sporting  gun  veritably  an  engine;  for  it  is  from  that 
word  that  the  term  '  gun '  is  derived.  Tht;  various  im|)rovements  to 
effect  self-|)riming  and  to  render  the  flash-pan  water-tight  greatly 
added  to  the  mechanical  parts,  and  a  pair  of  the  best  pattern  flint- 
locks, well  made  and  finished,  were  well  worth  the  seven  jjounds 
paid  for  their  manufacture.  Manton's  latest  improvement  in  flint- 
locks was  the  gravitating  stop,  which  rend<>red  it  impossible  for  the 
cock  to  fall  upon  the  hammer  whilst  loading  the  gun.  '\\\c  use  of 
them  was,  however,  superseded  by  detonating  guns,  to  which  Man- 
ton  also  devoted  a  portion  of  his  time.  This  wonderful  maker 
appears  to  have  led  the  fashion  in  ever\thiiig  relating  to  fire-arms  ; 
and  his  pattern  locks,  stocks,  and  furniture  were  minutely  copied  by 


V  I 


f  f 


768 


yVw  Sliot-Gitu. 


MANTON     1  l.lST-l.of.K. 


gun-makers  of  less  note.  We  give  an  illustration  of  the  Manton 
fowling-piece,  showing  his  well-known  pattern  hammers  and  cocks, 
the  water-tight  flash-pan.  and  his  gravitating  stops.  Joseph  Man- 
ton,  although  he  received  the  extraordinarily  high  price  of  seventy 
guineas  for  his  best  guns,  failed  seyeral  times,  and  died  poor. 
This  is  accounted  for  partly  by  the  losses  he  sustained  in  lawsuits 
respecting  his  patents.  He  was  buried  in  Kensington  Cemetery, 
and  a  monument  bearing  his  epitaph,  composed  by  Colonel  Hawker, 
gives  the  date  of  his  death  —  29th  June,  1835,  aged  si.\ty-nine — and 
eulogizes  his  work  as  a  practical  gun-maker  and  inventor." 

Between  1S07  and  1S25,  several  inventors  endeavored  to  replace 
the  uncertain  and  slow  fire  of  the  flint-lock  by  the  surer  and  quicker 
ignition  given  by  the  explosion  of  a  fulminate.  Several  devices,  such 
as  "detonating  tubes"  placed  in  the  touch-hole  and  armed  with  ful- 
minate, fulminate  placed  in  the  bottom  of  the  cartridge  and  exploded 
by  the  perforation  of  a  needle,  and  fulminate  inclosed  between  paper 
or  metallic  foil,  were  tried,  till  the  well-known  nipple  and  copper  cap 
was  devised  about  18 18,  an  invention  which  is  claimed  by  Colonel 
Hawker,  who  showed  this  plan  first  to  Jo.seph  Manton. 

In  1836,  Lefaucheux,  of  Paris,  invented  his  pin-fire  cartridge  and 
his  breech-loader.  I  place  th6  cartridge  first,  for  breech-loaders, 
too  numerous  and  varied  to  mention,  had  been  invented  before ;  but 
the  modern  breech-loader  owes  its  hearty  approval  of  sportsmen  to 
the  admirable  invention  of  the  Lefaucheux  cartridsxe,  with  its  stout, 
unyielding  flanged  base,  without  which,  or  its  <quivalent  in  the 
Pottet  central-pin  cartridge  of  1856,  the  breech-loader  would  never 
have  had  the  extensive  use  it  now  deservedly  enjoys. 


The  Shot-Gini. 


769 


The  Lefaucheux  ^un  is  shown  Ix-low.  In  the  Icft-haml  barrel 
is  a  cartridge,  the  pin  of  which  fits  in  a  recess  cut  in  the  top  of 
the  breech.  This  pin  is  struck  by  the  hammer  and  driven  into  the 
fuhninate  held  in  the  bottom  of  a  little  brass  cup  in  the  center  of 
the  base  of  the  cartridge.  When  the  gun  is  closed,  the  barrels  fit 
clo.se  to  the  "  standing-breech.'"  When  tin-  ievi-r,  shown  under  the 
"  breech-action,"  is  turned  till  it  comes  in  line  with  the  a.xis  of  the  gun, 


r.KI'Al  rm.l  X  S    IlRKl.CM-I.oADKR. 


it  throws  a  bolt  into  the  "  lump  "  attachetl  to  the  undi^rside  of  the  bar- 
rels, and  thus  locks  the  breech-end  of  the  barrels  to  the  breech  action 
The  lump  and  the  slot  into  which  the  bolt  fit  are  shown  separ;  rely  at  S. 

The  down-drop  action  of  the  barrels  on  opening  the  gun,  and  the 
mode  of  securing  them  to  the  breech-action  by  a  bolt  working  in  a 
lump  fixed  to  the  underside  of  the  barrels,  seen  in  Lefaucheux's  first 
breech-loader,  has  been  universally  adopted  by  gunmakers  since  his 
gun  appeared  in  1836.  It  has  been  greatly  improved  in  the  details 
of  mechanism,  but  the  general  plan  riMuains  the  same.  The  weakness 
in  the  locking  of  his  barrels  to  the  breech-action  was  soon  found  out, 
and  has  been  remedied  by  numerous  plans  in  which  double  and  even 
triple  bolts,  further  removed  than  his  from  thi'  hinge-joint,  have  been 
used. 

The  mechanisms  invented  for  opening  and  for  locking  breech- 
loaders are  so  numerous,  and  the  majority  of  them  accomplished  the 
object  so  perfectly,  that  one  cannot  fail  to  get  a  trustworthy  gun  if 
ordered  of  any  maker  of  established  reputation.  In  selecting  as  types 
two  breech-loaders,  one  with  hammers,  the  other  hammerless,  to  illus- 
trate our  remarks  on  the  gun,  we  wish  it  distinctly  understood  that 
thereby  we  do  not  intend  to  convey  the  impression  that  we  judge 
49 


1! 


770 


The  Shot- Gun. 


ill 


these  superior  in  all  respects  to  those  of  other  makers.  Two  hat)  to 
be  selected  out  of  the  numerous  types  now  offered  to  sportsmen,  and 
in  doing  so,  we  have  selected  two  with  which  we  have  had  much 
experience  and  which  are  undoubtedly  excellent. 

Before  proceeding  to  describe  the  modern  breech -loading  shot- 
gun, it  is  essential  that  the  general  reader  be  conversant  with  the 
names  of  the  various  parts  of  the  gun,  including  the  separate  pieces 
composing  the  lock. 

The  names  of  the  parts  of  the  stock  are,  A,  the  hand  ;  H,  the  butt ; 
H,  the  heel  ;  'I',  the  toe  of  the  butt;  C,  the  comb;  !•",  the  fore-end  ; 
and  (j,  the  trigger-guard. 

The  barrels  are  attached  to  th(  breech-action,  the  name  given  to 
the  whole  piece  of  iron  X,  Y,  Z.  '  his  is  screwed  firml)-  to  the  stock. 
The  perpentiicular  part  of  this  i —  shaped  piece  is  called  the  break-off, 
because  in  muzzle-loaders  the  barrels  could  be  separated  from  the 
rest  of  the  gun  at  that  place.  The  face  of  the  break- off,  against 
which  the  breech-end  of  the  barrels  tightly  fits,  is  called  the  standing- 
breech,  or  false-])reech.  The  barrels  rotate  on  the  breech-action 
around  the  hinge-joint,  V.      The  lumps   L  and  L,  firmly  dovetailed 


SKCTION   OK  IIAMMKRI.ESS 
BHEF.CII-ACTKiN. 


7Vir  SItot-Ciiii. 


771 


l)t:t\vc(.;n  the  barrels.  hav(!  their  surfaces  wroiij^ht  to  portions  of  cylin- 
ders whose  common  center  is  the  center  of  the  hinge -joint.  Thesi- 
cylindrical  surfaces  fit  closely  in  the  corresponding  slots  W.  W  cut 
in  the  breech-action.  The  cartridge-extractor  is  shown  at  K.  it  is 
workird  by  a  cam  attachi-d  to  the  fort.'-end.  When  the  gun  is  opened, 
or  ■'  broken,"  this  cam  presses  forward  tin-  rod  of  the  extractor,  and 
push(!s  out  tin-  cartridges  sufficiently  to  allow  the  fingers  to  nimove 
them.  I*  is  the  extt.-nsion-rib  which  fits  in  a  recess  cut  in  the  break - 
off.  When  the  gun  is  doseil,  bolts  enter  the  slots  S,S'  and  the  hole 
in  the  cfxtension-rib.  and  firmly  and  sc;curi'ly  lock  the  barrels  to  the 
breech-action.  To  unlock  and  open  the  gun,  the  top  lever,  1-,  is 
pressed  from  left  to  right ;   this  draws  the  bolts  and  the  gun  open.s. 


PAir.Nr    iKKiur.    wi  r)f;i.-i  ast  (iijN. 


This  engraving  shows  the  appearance  of  one  of  Mr.  W.  W. 
Gn;ener's  guns  when  opened.  The  breech-acti<in  anil  locking  gear 
just  described  are  those  of  one  of  these  guns. 

The  parts  of  an  ordinary  l);ir-lock  are  shown  on  page  772.  \\  ar- 
ren's  "  .Shooting,  Moating,  and  I'ishing  "  (Scrii)n(,T  ami  Sons,  1S71). 
The  longer  leg  of  the  mainspring,  S,  has  a  hook  or  claw  at  its  end 
which  rests  on  the  pin  of  the  swivel,  shown  linked  to  the. right  of  the 
tumbler,  2.  The  action  of  this  swivel  is  to  increasi!  instead  of  dimin 
ishing  the  force  of  the  spring  as  it  unbends  on  the  di'scent  of  the 
hammer,  v  The  interposition  of  the  swivel  between  the  tumbler 
and  mainspring  causes  the  latter  to  act  with  increasing  leverage  on 
the  tumbler  as  the  spring  unbends.  This  increasing  lexerage  will  be 
apparent  to  any  one  who  will  compare  the  pressure  of  the  thumb 
on  the  hammer  when  it  is  just  lifted  with  what  it  is  just  before  the 
hammer  catches  at  full  cock.      In  the  tumbler  are  cut  two  notches. 


ji 


1 


''M 


'ill  : 


II  M 


'}  ■■■ 


n' 


Ij 


V/tc  Shot- Gun. 

called  bents.  One  of  these, 
into  which  the  sear,  5,  falls 
when  the  hammer  is  at 
half-cock,  is  so  deep  and 
of  such  form  that  a  pull  on 
the  trij^}i[er  cannot  force 
the  sear  out  of  it.  The 
other  is  shallower,  and  so 
shaped  that  a  pull  on 
the  triirj^er — jjenerally  of 
about  four  pounds  —  will 
(iisenj^age  the  sear  and 
cause  the  hammer  to  strike 
on  the  strikinj^  or  firinir 
pins.  The  tumbler  and  sear 
work  between  the  lock- 
plate,  I,  and  the  bridle,  4, 
which  is  screwed  to  the  lock- 
plate.  The  sear-spriny^,  6, 
constantly  presses  the  end 
of  th"  sear  ai^ainst  the  tum- 
bler. The  tumbltT  has  a 
journal  which  i^oes  throuj^h 
the  lock-plate,  and  to  a 
s(|uare  shoulder  on  this 
journal  is  secured  tiie  hammer  by  a  screw,  7. 

An  improvement  was  made  in  the  above  lock  in  1S69  by  Mr. 
Stanton,  of  Wolverhampton,  England.  I  lis  lock  is  known  as  the 
rebounding  lock,  the  peculiarity  of  which  is  that  after  the  hammer 
has  struck  the  striking-pin  it  flics  back  to  half-cock.  This  is  accom- 
plished by  having  the  upper  leg  of  the  mainspring  free,  and  extend- 
ing it  so  that  it  reaches  under  a  projection  on  the  tumbler.  This 
projection  falls  on  the  uppctr  leg  of  the  mainspring  just  before  the 
hammer  strikes  the  firing-pin,  and  the  projection  of  the  tumbler  thus 
forces  the  upper  leg  of  the  spring  downward  so  far  that  the  hammer 
reaches  and  strikes  the  firing-pin;  but  the  next  instant  this  portion 
of  the  spring  throws  up  the  projection  on  the  tumbler,  and  thus  brings 
the  hammer  to  about  one-eighth  of  an  inch  above  the  cap  or  firing-pin. 


y.i 


The  Shot-Ctun. 


Ill 


STANTON  s    RKBOUNDINO    1.0(  K,    (  0(  KI.H  —  I  III      SIZK. 

In  this  position  of  the  hammer  the  scar  is  just  clear  of  the  half- 
cock  l)ent,  so  that  if  the  hammer  is  pressed  forward  the  sear  closes  in 
this  bent  antl  prevt;nls  its  further  motion  toward  the  cap.  No  sports- 
man should  think  of  huyinjjf  a  j^un  not  furnished  with  these;  rel)ound- 
in<^  locks,  which  have  so  much  tliminished  the  risk  of  accidents.  The 
peculiar  points  in  the  construction  of  this  lock  which  we  have  de- 
scribed will  be  understood  with  the  aitl  of  the  above  enj^ravinLj  from 
"The  Modern  Sportsman's  (iun  and  Rifle,"  by  .S.  H.  W'alsh. 

If  the  sportsman  understantis  the  construction  of  the  locks  of  his 
gun,  he  can  readily  takt;  them  apart,  clean  and  oil  them,  and  put 
tli,em  together.  Me  is  sometimes  recpiired  to  tlo  this  after  his  gun 
has  been  exposed  to  the  wet;  t;specially  after  he  has  been  shooting 
on  the  shores  of  bay  and  estuaries,  where  h<!  is  often  exposed  for 
hours  to  the  spray  of  salt  water. 

To  Takk  .Ai'AKT  \  Lock. — (i)  lake  off  the  locks  by  unscrewing 
the  side-pin  which  holds  them  together  and  binds  them  to  the  breech- 
action  and  stock.  (2)  Pull  the  hammer  to  full-cock,  then  clamp 
tightly  the  legs  of  the  mainspring  in  a  spring-cramp.  (;)  Relieve 
the  sear  from  the  bent  and  push  the  hammer  forward  ;  the  main- 
spring will  now  come  off  in  the  jaws  of  the  cramp.  (4)  Unscrew  the 
bridle-pins  and  take  off  the  bridle.  (5)  Take  off  the  sear  and  then 
the  sear-spring.  (6)  Take  out  the  screw  which  holds  the  hammer 
on  the  tumbler,  and,  putting  a  brass  punch  on  the  arm  or  journal  of 
the  tumbler,  knock  the  latter  free  of  the  hamm(;r. 

To  Put  tiik  Pauts  ok  a  Lock  Tociktiiek. — ( i)  Put  on  sear-spring. 
(2)  Put  on  the  tumbler.  (3)  Cramp  the  sear-spring,  and  then  put  on 
the  sear  so  that  it  goes  into  the  half-cock  bent  on  the  tumbler.  (4") 
Screw  bridle  to  lock-plate.  (5)  Take  the  mainspring  in  the  cramp 
and  hook  it  on  to  the  swivel,  and  force  the  stud  on  mainspring  into  its 
hole  in  the  lock-plate ;  then  press  mainspring  down  quite  close  to 
49A 


i' 


IM] 


+  11  ( 


774 


The  Sliot-Cun. 


/| 


ii^l 


t 


111   H 


llAMMKHl.i;ss    i;lN. 


lock-plate.  Now,  on  reinoviriij  tlic  spring-cramp,  the  lock  is  ready 
to  have  the  hammer  placed  on  the  tumbler.  (6)  To  do  this,  place 
the  lock  on  a  wooden  block,  and  drive  the  hammer  on  to  the  scjuare 
shoulder  of  the  journal  of  the  tumbler ;  then  put  in  the  .screw  that 
binds  the  hammer  firmly  to  the  tumbler. 

We  have  given  a  description  of  a  breech-loader  with  hammers  in 
referring  to  Mr.  W.  W.  Greener's  table-bolt  and  extension-rib  gun.  As 
type  of  hammerless  guns,  we  select  this  of  Mr.  Sneider,  of  Haltimore. 
The  accompanying  figures  and  appended  descriptions  will  show- 
clearly  the  peculiarities  of  this  gun.  The  safety  action  is  excellent. 
By  the  forward  rotation  of  the  milled  wheel  in  the  end  of  the  top 
lever,  a  bolt  is  put  on  the  sears  and  holds  them  so  effectually  that  no 
pull  on  the  trigger  or  jar  to  the  gun  can  set  them  free  of  the  catches 
in  the  hammer-carrier,  and  there  is  no  necessity  of  setting  free  the 
sears  till  the  instant  of  firing.  The  gun  is  held  "  ready  "  with  the 
index-finger  under  the  guard  and  the  ball  of  the  thumb  on  the  safet)  - 
wheel.  At  the  moment  the  bird  rises  the  gun  is  thrown  against  the 
shoulder,  and  with  this  motion  the  thumb  can  naturally  rotate  the 
safety-wheel  backward  and  take  off  the  lock  on  the  sears.  This 
movement  is  soon  ac(|uired  by  the  sportsman,  and  when  it  becomes 

automatic  to  him  it  adds 
greatly  to  his  assurance  of 
safety  from  accidents. 

This  represents  the  breech 
and  part  of  the  fore-end  of 
the  Sneider  hammerless  gun  ; 
also  the  lock  with  lock -plate 


1;  ,.'f 


The  S/iot-GiiH. 


lis 


removed.  The  operations  of  the  various  parts  are  as  follows  :  W'lien 
the  ^iin  is  opened  to  load,  the  pushinjf  lever,  i)<  '^  forceil  by  the  cam- 
shaped  surface,  I',  in  fore-end,  against  the  hammer-carrier,  V.,  pushinj;; 
it  backward  aj^ainst  the  hammer,  (i,  and  brin^injf  it  to  fiill-coik,  where 
it  is  held  by  the  intirrlockinj^ofthe  hooks  on  the  hammer-carrier,  ICanil 
sc;ar,  H.  Wy  pullin;.^  the  triji^j^er,  the  sear  is  pressed  upward,  lhereb\ 
releasing  the  hammer-carrier,  V.,  which  is  driven  forward  by  the  main- 
sprinjr,  takinj^  with  it  the  hammer,  (i.  and  exploilinj;  thi'  cariridm'. 

To  set  the  j^un  at  safety,  press  forward  the  button,  I ),  on  the  end 
of  lever,  which,  pushinjr  the  bolt,  I*",  aj^ainst  arm  of  the  sear,  causes  a 
rij^id  interlocking  of  the  two  hooks.  This  is  a  positiv(;  locking,  and 
pr(!vents  all  danger  of  the  gun  jarring  off,  which  is  possible  if  the 
safety-bolt  only  presses  against  the  triggers.  On  the  hanuner- 
carrier,  1*2,  is  a  nut.  1.  for  regulating  tiie  tension  of  the  mainspring.  K. 
To  let  the  hammers  down  from  full-cock,  open  tlu;  gun  and  hold 
back  both  triggers  while  closing. 

The  slot  in  hammer-carrier,  Iv  is  shaped  in  such  a  way  that  when 
the  hammer  is  forced  down  upon  the  strikers  to  e.xplodi-  the  charge 
there  is  room  left  behind  the  shoulder  of  the  hammer  to  allow  it  to 
go  back  again  from  the  strikcM",  relieving  the  same  instantly  from 
contact  with  the  cartridge,  thus  making  a  rebounding  hammer  at 
once  simple  and  effective,  .\lthough.  from  the  secure  and  positive 
locking  of  the  hammer-carrier.  K.  and  the  sear.  II.  there  is  no  danger 
of  jarring  off",  even  when  the  safety-bolt  is  not  in  place,  yet  the  lock 
is  provided  with  an  extra  catch.  2,  which  will  assist  the  fall  of  the 
hammer  before  striking  the  firing-pin.  if  by  any  means  the  jarring  oft" 
of  the  hammer  should  occur. 

At  I,  in  the  figure,  is  seen  a  gas-chambt;r  which  communicates  with 
the  holes  of  the  firing-pins.  If  any  gas  should  blow  back  it  will  go 
into  this  gas-chamber,  and  thence  escape  by  vent-holes  in  the  stantl- 
ing-breech,  and  not  go  into  the  locks.  This  action  ol  the:  gases 
on  the  locks  has  been  one  of  the  objections  to  hanuiierless  guns. 

The  cut  on  page  776  shows  Sneider's  double-grip  top-lever  gun, 
with  all  its  parts,  cut  in  half,  and  the  gun  ready  for  insertion  of  cartridge. 

The  top-grip,  H,  inserted  from  above,  is  held  from  below  by  nut. 
E;  the  lower  grip.  C,  inserted  from  below,  rests  against  the  solid 
breech,  the  square  hole  in  C  receiving  the  square  shank  of  M.  so  that 
when  H  is  turned,  C  must  turn  also.     The  interlocking  of  the  upper- 


\ 

i 


r 


776 


The  Sliot-Gini, 


w 


mw  ' 


\,'-^  I: 


j^rip,  II,  with  ihc  liij^f,  I",  prevents  any  aiul  all  sprin^iii^j  of  tin;  barrels 
and  l>reech  at  this  point.  Any  wear  on  M  can  i)e  taken  up  by  ti^ht 
enin^  nut,  M.  without  alterinjf  thi;  position  of  C;  anti  any  wt^ar  on  C, 
by  screwinjf  downward  the  second  nut,  Iv  on  shank  (»f  H,  without 
alterinjj^  position  of  H.  I'o  prevent  th«'  nut.  I'.,  from  j^ft^llinj^  loose,  a 
steel  washer  with  a  tonj^ui;  fits  between  it  and  the  face  of  the  bn<'ch. 
Thus,  with  the  two  pieces  H  and  C  and  tht;  nuts  IC  V.  is  formed  a  perfect 
ilouble-^rip  action,  allowing  compensation  for  wear,  recpiirinj^  nothing' 
further,  if  strenj^th  alone  is  ccmsidered.  To  keep  the  jjrips  and  the 
lu^,  I'",  anil  hook,  I),  from  wearing  by  continual  contact,  sto|j  L  enters 
into  a  notch  on  the  underside  of  j^rip,  C,  when  the  j^un  is  opened, 
holtlinjf  the  ^rip  out  of  the  way  until  the  barrels  are  brouj^ht  home, 
when  I.  is  depressed  by  lower  lu^,  I),  and  the  j;rips  allowed  to  swin^^ 
into  th(Mr  lockinjj^  position.  The  j,'un  is  made  self-closinj^-  by  the 
sprinjr,  K,  bearinjf  aj^^ainst  a  stud  on  C,  brinj^in^  the  j^rips  home  when 
released  from  the  hold  of  L.  The  strain  on  the  hinj^f  when  the 
barrels  drop  is  entirely  obviated  by  the  shoulder-lujr,  I),  cominjjj  in 
contact  with  check,  J.  This  check  works  exactly  like  the  bolt  which 
holds  the  front  stock  to  th«'  barrels.  W<!ar  on  hintri,'  is  taken  up  by 
conipensatinj^r  hin)^e-')olt. 

Mr.  .Sneider  claims  for  this  action  :  That  with  four  pieces,  H,  K, 
E,  C,  a  perfect  double-j^rip  gun  is  formetl ;  that,  without  affectinjj^  the 
strenjfth  of  the  action,  it  is  made  self-closiny;,  by  sprinj;,  K,  and 
the  movement,  and  conse(|uently  the  wear  upon  the  parts  lessened 
exactly  one-half  by  th(;  introiluction  of  stop,  L;  that  the  strain  on 
the  hinj^e-bolt  is  entirely  overcome  by  check,  J;  ami  that  nu;ans  of 
compensation  is  sup|)lied  at  every  point  where  wear  can  occur  in  a 
breech-loader — on  B  by  nut  IC,  on  C  i)y  nut,  and  on  hini^t'-bolt  by 


WnJIWll!IinW!flWlMMW,!'TlJ!ff!!!nimrmmr,r,^ 


^^-^«,^v\\\v\\w\wwwwm\\m^^^ 


'>)ij'iMI/i>i ; 


TIIRII  -TWIST    llARKF.l.. 


Tin  Sliot-iiun. 


in 


\ 


//«/V/«#*""'""""'""^''''^^ji 
UIIUlll.iWMMl/l//, /////' 


rill    HI  Wisr     II  \MHI  I 


cnmpensatinj^r  txilt,  and  that  this  toiniit^nsation  can  Ix'  made  at  any 
ont;  of  tlu'sc  points  without  atVcctinj:;  the  position  ollht-  other  picci-s. 

("il'\-liAKKi;i  s. — It  is  niH'dlfss,  in  a  work  ol  the  j,'i'nrral  tiiaractfr 
^)t*  this  onr,  to  jro  int«»  a  Icnjjfthy  description  of  tlic  <lctails  of  thf  proc- 
fsscs  cinployfd  in  making;  ;,'un-l)arrcls ;  l)iit  a  j^cncral  account  of  tht- 
operations  in  their  manufacture  may  he  of  interest  to  the  sportsman, 
in  servinjf  to  j^dve  clearer  ideas  on  the  differences  in  the  texture  of  the 
twist.  Damascus,  and  laminated  steel  l)arrels  whicli  are  now  used. 
Tht;  twist  barrel  is  often  called  stub-twist,  from  the  stubs  of  horse- 
shoe nails  out  of  which  these  barrels  were  first  niade.  These  stubs 
and  other  "scraps"  are  weliled  tojrether.  drawn  into  bars,  then  heated, 
and  while  ont;  end  is  in  a  notch,  or  ilamp,  the  other  end  of  the  rotl 
is  attached  to  the  axis  of  a  crank  and  twisted.  /\l  present,  llu-sc:  rods 
art!  made-  of  selectetl  iron,  the  supply  anil  (pialit)'  of  stubs  havinj,^ 
fallen  oft".  Ihese  twisted  rods  are  now  beaten  into  flat  bars  and  then 
wra|)i)eil  around  a  mandrel,  and  their  edncs  are  weldeil  toj,felher. 
This  forms  the  iwist  barrel. 

The  Damascus  barrel  is  formed  b)  taking  nearly  i;(pial  propor- 
tions of  refined  iron  and  steel  bars.  These  are  placeil  in  piles,  or 
"fa.ifoted,"  and  thtMi  heated  an<l  thoroughly  welded  toj^ethir.  The 
bar  thus  formed  is  cut  into  ecpial  len^ahs,  a^ain  "  faj^ott-d,"  wi'lded 
uniler  a  trip-hammer,  drawn  into  narrow  rods,  anti  these  are  then 
twisted.  'l"o  make  the  best  I  )amascus  barnl,  threi'  of  these  twisted 
rods  are  placed  alonj^fsich;  of  each  other,  and  forced  into  a  ribbon 
of  the  dinumsions  of  cross-s(!clion  of  one-half  inch  by  seven-six- 
teenths for  the  i)reech-end  of  the  barrel,  and  one  half  by  three-six 
teenths  <if  an  inch  for  tlu;  muzzh'-end.  This  ribbon  is  now  wrapped 
around  a  mandri:l,  and  its  couNolutions  are  firmly  ucldetl  together  at 
a  white  heat  by  hammerinjLj  tlu:  ribbon  on  the;  manilrel  while  placed 
in  a  semi-cylindrical  groove.      .Xnother  portion  is  added  to  that  just 


I' 


Iliil 

H 


778 


The  Sliot-Giiii. 


:i- 


l^:i'i 


sir  ( 


formed  by  "  jiimpinjr "'  and  hammcrin^f  till  the  Icnj^fth  of  the  barrel  is 
completed. 

Laminated  steel  barrels  are  formed  of  ribbons  composed  of  six 
parts  of  stecil  to  four  of  iron,  and  the  only  difference  between  lamin- 
ated steel  and  Damascus  barr(;ls  is  that  the  ribbons  com[)osin5.j  the 
former  are  made  of  rods  less  twisted;  but  the  ribbons  are  subjexted 
to  more  hammerinj^  when  on  the  mandrel,  in  order  to  j^et  {greater 
condensation  and  firm  weldin*,^  of  thi'  fibers  of  the  two  metals.  . 

TiiK  Pk()VI.\<;  ok  (ir\-i!ARK.;i,s. —  The  law  in  Lntj^land  requires 
(fun-barrels,  whether  of  dom  ,'stic  or  foreign  make,  to  l)e  subjected  to 
proof  before  they  can  be  offered  for  sale  when  part  of  a  gun.  The 
barrels  are  subjectetl  to  two  proofs.  The  first  is  called  provisional, 
the  second  (/cjiiii/ivc  proof  There  are  two  companies  in  England 
authorized  by  law  to  prove  gun-barrels.  The  one  at  London  is 
called  the  London  ( iunmakers  Company;  the  other,  at  Birmingham, 
is  the  Birmingham  ("luardians.  The  tests  are  jjrecisely  the  same  at 
both  places.  Barrels  to  i)e  subjected  to  provisional  proof  are  bored 
and  ground,  and  plugs  are  .screwed  into  tht^ir  breeches.  In  these 
l)lugs  the  touch-hole  is  drilled.  In  thi;  following  table  are  given  the 
charges  used  in  provisional  and  tiefinitiv<'  proofs  of  the  gauges  of  guns 
given  in  tlvc  first  column.  1  have  added  a  column  of  usual  loads  for 
these  guns  with  which  to  compare  the  charges  u.sed  in  the  proof-house: 


f-'ifiif-iftitrei\ 


ifiintrf  !>/         ...  y,  H't.  of  i'lilUt  or  t^f    M't,  of  t^o-.viii-r  in  Itiy 

gun.  D'.im.of  Iw,  shot  in  froo/s.  viAmal /•roof. 

4  H15J  inch.  1649  Krs.  9..8  j^rs.  =  j  oz.  j      ilrs.     slfu  ^rs.  =:  15^^  (irs.     i-'hi  isdrs.  7'4  u/.  shot." 


//  V,  of fou'iit-r  in  .ujin- 
i/i7r  /ifwf. 


■XJS 
.775 
■7'9 

,6(i-.. 


641 

535 

34.1 


4S1     "    ^  I    "    I  ',■ 
37a    ••    =  13,1,^ 

350    "    =  i:}i 


/I9 


Over  the  charge  of  powder  used  in  either  proof  is  rammed  a  cork 
wad.  Ovi^r  this  is  |)laced  the  bullet,  which  is  also  covered  with  a  cork 
wad.  In  testing  choke -bored  barrels,  the  bullet  is  replaced  by  the 
same  weight  of  shot  of  No.  6,  i'.nglish.  In  the  definitive  |)roof  the 
barrels  have  to  be  presi'nted  to  the  comjjany  in  a  finished  state  and 
attached  to  their  breech-loading  actions.  It  is  ])rohibited  by  law  to 
rculuce  the  weight  of  these  barrels,  after  the  company  has  stamped 
them  to  show  that  they  have  reciMved  the  provisional  and  definitive 
proofs.  The  stamps  used  by  the  London  (iunmakers  Company  on 
,«  laB  choke-bore  barrels  is  as  follows-    12  B  .\ 


NOT   FOR  BALL  ^  ,  ,  •        ,       • 

'*"'  14  M  stand  respectively  lor  twelve  gauge 

at  breech,  fourteen  gauge  at  muz/le. 

Sinj^le-barrcl  rliirkinii-Bmi  of  2n  ptmnds  weight. 


,   i 


The  Shot-Ciun. 


779 


This    stamp     is     tiiat     used  by    the  V   ^^    VoWi" 
(iuanlians    of  tiie    liirminj^rham    I'roof-    «0^^  '°)^''i! 


house 


/  i>r/^^ 


M 


NOT  FOR  BALL 


An  examination  of  the  tal)le  shows  that  the  chartje  of  powder 
useil  in  provisional  proof  is  about  V^  times  the  averajfe  field 
charjre,  and  in  definitive  ])roof  it  is  about  2',  times  the  ficki 
charjre.  The  i)all,  or  cliartje  of  shot,  has  very  h'ttle  more  weijrht 
than  tlie  averajjj-e  charj^e  used  by  the  sportsman. 

Beljrium  is  the  only  country,  besides  Hnj^land,  whose  laws  re(|uire 
the  proving  of  gun-barrels.  At  the  Liege  proof-house,  each  breech- 
loader is  proved  thrice.  I'irst,  the  barrels  are  tested,  then  the  barrels 
and  bn-ech-action,  and  finalK  the  finished  gun.  The  proof  charges 
for  a  twelve-gaug(;  gun  an-  a  bidlet,  or  a  charge  of  shot  weighing 
34  grammes.  Twenty-two  grammes  of  powder  are  used  in  the 
first  proof,  15  grammes  in  the  second,  and  7  grammes  in  the 
third  proof.  ^^ 

Ihe  following  an;  the  Belgium  proof-marks:    xS      '■^      X 

To    TksT    TMK   SlKAKill  INKSS    OK     llll'.     HoKK    OK   A    Gl'N-liARKKI,. 

The  barrels  of  high-priced  guns  are  not  always  straight.  They 
may  have  been  so  before  they  were  solderc;d  together  and  ribbed, 
but  these  operations  often  draw  anil  bend  the  barrels.  Ihe  straighl- 
ness  of  a  barn;l  can  be  reatlily  testt'd  by  any  purchas<_'r  in  the 
following  manner:  Take  a  thin  card-l)oard  wad  of  the  gauge  of 
the  gun,  antl  with  a  |)air  of  dividers  get  its  center.  Perforate 
this  c(;nter  with  a  i^nhole.  V\acv.  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  on  the 
floor,  and  push  the  wad  from  the  breech  till  it  reaches  the;  floor  at 
the  muzzle-end  of  the  gun.  Xow  ])oint  the  barrel  toward  the  bright 
sky  or  at  the  porcelain  shade;  of  a  lamj).  Place  tlu;  breech  of  the 
barrel  quite  close;  to  the  eye  a!>d  look  at  the  brightl\-  illuminated 
pinhole;.  Ye)u  will  see  this  he)le-  in  the;  axis  of  the  barre'l.  Arounel 
it,  as  a  center,  you  will  observe  ihre'e  or  four  bright  rings.  If  the 
barrel  be'  straight  these  rings  will  be;  perfectly  concentric,  with  the 
pinhole  fe)r  their  common  center.  If  the  l)arre'l  be-  bent,  say  te)  the 
left,  then  the  circles  will  appear  as,  if  sliel  to  the  left  of  the-  central 
pinhole  ;  the  direction  in  which  the  circles  ajjpear  ilisplaceel  ce)r- 
responds  to  the  direction  in  which  the  barre;l  is  bent. 

The  above  is  a  severe;  test,  and  there  are  few  barrels  that  will 
stand  it.  A  similar  test,  though  less  searching,  may  be  applieel  bv 
merely  placing  the  bre-ech  ve-ry  close-  to  the-  eye  and  loeiking  through 


IHI 


f,i>  J 


780 


7Vic  Shot-Cun. 


I  / 


the  l)arrel  directed  to  the  bright  sky,  when  you  will  observe  the  open- 
ing of  the  muzzle  and,  surrounding  it,  three  or  four  bright,  broad 
rings,  which  will  all  be  concentric  with  the  bright  circle  of  thi-  muzzle 
if  the  barrel    be  straight.* 

A  study  of  the  accom-  --" '       /  \ 

panying    carefully    drawn  ..-■•""      '  "^ 

diagram    will    show    iiow  .--'■:■.-••-■  

these!  circles  are  produced    Ik^r  ^--~' —    '     ^  ~^^ — -~^^^.^^ 

by   the    reflections   of   the      ~^7F'^.r'~ — 1 — : . 

light  of  the  pinhole  from  "".,.. 

the  sides  of  the  barre'ls.  • 

Ciunmakers  use  a  meth-  '"" .,     \  / 

od  of  testing  called  "  shad- 
ing," which  is  applieil  b)  holding  the  breech  a  few  inches  from  the 
eye  and  looking  through  the  barrel  at  the  top  of  a  window-sash  and 
seeing  if  its  image  has  straight  edges  as  it  appears  reflected  along 
the  sides  of  tiie  interior  of  the  barrels. 

The  choke  of  a  gun,  antl  the  dimensions  of  any  part  of  the  bore, 
may  be  examined  by  long-legged  calipers  supplied  with  a  spring 
and  an  index-gauge  ;  or,  by  well  oiling  the  interior  of  the  barrel  and 
then  taking  a  plaster  cast  of  it,  on  which  measures  can  be  made 
with  a  pair  of  vernier  calipers. 

CiiOKK-iioKKi)  M\i<ki:Ls. —  It  is  not  pt)ssible  to  state  who  was  the 
first  inventor  of  choke-boring.  It  is  probable  that  one  or  another 
of  the  different  modes  of  boring,  which  differ  from  that  producing  a 
plain  cylinder,  has  been  used  from  time  to  time  during  the  past  one 
hundred  years;  Init  it  is  certain  that  our  countryman,  Joseph  \V. 
Long,  first  called  public  attention  to  the  excellence  of  the  system 
of  choke-boring.  F'Vom  this  country  the  knowledge  of  its  merits 
went  to  England,  and  now  choke-boring  is  practiced  by  gunsmiths 
throughout  the  world. 

*  The  reader  may  amuse  liimself  with  a  few  experiments  which  will  make  clear  to 
him  the  philosophy  of  these  methods  of  testing  gini-barrels.  'lake  two  or  tlirce  glass 
tubes  .ibout  one-half  inch  in  bore  and  eighteen  inches  long.  One  of  these  tubes  should 
be  as  straight  as  can  be  selected  at  the  glassware  dealers.  The  other  should  appear 
evidently  bent  or  ( urved.  Cover  the  outside  of  these  tubes  with  black  varnish  or 
cloth,  so  as  to  exclude  the  light.  Close  one  end  of  each  tube  with  a  <:ircle  of  card-board 
with  a  pinhole  in  its  center.  On  looking  through  the  tubes,  you  will  see  the  circles 
concentric  with  the  pinhole  in  the  straight  tube  and  eccentric  in  the  curved  ones. 


The  Slwt-Ciin. 


781 


A 


U 


As  far  l)ack  as  1787,  M.  Magne  dc  Marolles,  in  "l.a  Chasse  au 
Fusil,"  jrave  an  account  of  choice- boring.  But  lie  did  not  commend 
tile  system,  wliicli  lie  thought,  if  advantageous,  would  greatly  increase 
the  recoil  of  the  gun.  Colonel  Hawker,  in  "Instructions  to  Young 
Sportsmen,"  London,  1814,  had  very  strong  opinions  against  choke- 
bores.  We  next  find  mention  of  choke-boring  in  1835,  in  Deyeux's 
"  Le  Vieux  Chasseur." 

Mr.  Long,  in  his  "American  Wild- I^'owl  Shooting,"  N.  Y.,  1879, 
gives  the  invention  of  a  really  successful  mode  of  choke-boring  to  Jere- 
miah Smith,  of  Rhode  Island,  who  discovered  its  merits  in  1827.  From 
him  it  was  lt;arned  by  Nathaniel  Whitman,  of  Mansfield,  Mass.,  and 
the  method  was  practiced  by  Joseph  Tonks.  of  Boston,  who,  in  1870, 
made  such  a  remarkably  close  shooting  gun  for  Mr.  Long  that  he 
informed  his  brother  sportsmen  of  its  remarkable  power,  and  thest- 
choke-bores  of  I'onks  came  rapidly  in  favor  with  duck-shooters.  In 
1872,  he  explained  this  mode  of  boring  to  a  gunsmith  named  John- 
son, of  Monmouth,  III.,  who  subsequently  rebored  to  a  chokc>  the 
guns  of  many  sportsmen.  In  1872.  Robert  M.  I'aburn  took  out  a 
patent  for  an  expanding-bit,  which  gave  to  barrels  a  relief  near  the 
muzzle,  producing  what  is  known  as  the  "jug,"  or  "  luli|)  choke." 
But  l\iburn's  motle  of  boring  was  not  that  practiced  by  Tonks  ;  the 
latter,  Mr.  Long  says,  bori.'d  his  barri;l  a  true  c\linder  from  the 
breech  to  where  the  construction  began  near  the  muzzle.  This  is  the 
mode  of  boring  which  Mr.  (ireener  has  claimed  as  his  invention,  and 
he  no  doubt  invented  it.  but  many  years  subsequent  to  Mr.  Tonks's 
practice  of  it.  Mr.  Long  slates  that  Tonks's  choke-boring  doubled 
the  closeness  of  pattern  on  the;  target  at  forty  yards  ami  incrc'ased  its 
killing  range  by  twent)-five  yards. 

The  choke-bore  now  almost  universally  adopted  b)-  gunmakers 
is  as  follows  :  Taking  a  twelvc;-gauge  gun  as  an  e\ami)le.  llu-  con- 
struction of  the  bore  from  the  front  of  the  brct'th-chamber  to  within 
one  and  a  half  inch  of  the  muzzle  amounts  to  about  i,'iilh  of  an 
inch.  At  one  antl  a  half  inch  from  the  muzzle  begins  a  sharp  con- 
traction which,  in  the  length  of  one  inch,  e(|uals  ,ii,;„th  of  an  inch. 
The  last  half  inch  of  the  bore  is  a  true  cylinder. 

The  guns  usually  used  by  sportsmcMi  are  of  4,  S,  10,  12,  and  16 
gauges.  The  charges  of  powtk'r  and  shot  with  which  these  different 
gauges  are  loadcnl  are'  as  follows  : 

The  four-bore  gun  is  a  single  44-inch  barrel  gun,  weighing  about 


f         ';! 


ni 


fl 


782 


The  Sliot-Gnn. 


: 


»i  < 


■\ 


20  lbs.  This  jrun  is  used  in  "  point  shooting"  at  chicks  on  the  Ches- 
apeake. It  is  chary;ed  with  from  12  to  15  drams  of  powder,  similar 
to  Hazard's  No.  5  or  to  Dupont's  No.   1,  and  with  2'j  ozs.  of  shot. 

An  eig'  -bore  double-barrel  gun  weighs  about  15  lbs.,  and  is 
charged  with  7  to  8  drams  of  powder  and  with  i  ?ij  to  i  '^  oz.  of  shot. 
The  powder  u.sed  in  this  gun  is  similar  in  (juality  and  texture  to  that 
used  in  the  No.  4  gauge. 

A  ten-bore  gun  weighs  about  10  lbs.,  and  its  load  is  from  4  to  5 
drams  of  powder  and  about  i  '+  oz.  of  shot.  In  this  gauge,  and  in 
the  twelve-bore,  I  have  found  that  the  best  powder  is  one  similar  to 
Hazard's  No.  4  duck-shooting  powder. 

A  twelve-bore  carries  a  charge  of  from  3  to  3  '4  drams  of  powder, 
and  from  i  oz.  to  i  ^i  oz.  of  shot. 

The  sixteen -gauge  is  loadetl  witii  from  2  to  3  drams  of  powder, 
and  with  '4  oz.  to  r  oz.  of  shot.  In  this  gauge  of  gun.  use  a  powder 
like  "Hazard's  No.  4"  or  "Hupont's  choke-bore"  powder. 

The  charges  of  powder  and  shot  which  will  give  the  best  shoot- 
ing of  a  given  gun  must  be  determined  by  the  sportsman  himself 
The  load  depends  on  the  weight  of  the  gun,  on  the  length  and 
texture  of  the  barrels,  and  on  the  manner  in  which  these  are  bored. 

To  get  the  charge  best  suited  to  a  gun,  use  the  smallest  quan- 
tity of  shot  that  will  give  the  desired  closeness  of  pattern,  driven 
with  the  largest  charge  of  powder  which,  together  with  the  load  of 
shot,  will  give  a  recoil  which  will  not  produce  any  disagreeable 
effects  on  the  shoulder,  head,  or  eyes  of  the  shooter.  You  will  then 
have  obtained  the  three  conditions  essential  to  the  best  shooting  of 
this  particular  gun,  viz.:  First,  such  closeness  of  pattern  that  the 
game  does  not  escape  between  the  pellets ;  secondly,  a  high  velocity 
in  the  shot,  giving  penetration  and  range*;  and,  thirdly,  comfort  to 
the  shooter.  To  show  how  different  guns  of  tiie  same  gauge  may 
vary  in  their  charge  in  order  to  produce  accord  in  the  above-named 
three  conditions,  we  will  cite  experience  with  three  twelve-gauge 
guns  in  our  possession.  They  are  of  different  weights,  differ  in  the 
lengths  of  barrels,  and  they  are  bored  differently.  In  order  to  get 
the  conditions  I  have  mentioned,  one  of  them  in  the  closest  accord 
has  to  be  charged  with  },^-i  drams  of  j)owder  and   i  'h  oz.  of  shot; 

•  The  great  ;ulv:int.ago  of  the  thoke-hore  is,  that  from  the  closeness  witli  which  it 
throws  sliot.  the  charge  of  the  hitter  may  l)e  much  reduced,  when  comijared  with  the 
charge  the  cylinder-hore  requires  to  gi\e  the  same  <  loseness  of  pattern. 


The  Shot-Gim. 


783 


f 


the  seconil,  with  3  '4  drams  of  powder  and  1  '«  oz.  of  shot;  and  the 
third,  with  3  drams  of  powder  and  1  oz.  of  shot.  The  last  j^nin  gives 
the  best  results  in  the  field. 

The  recoil  of  a  gun  is  greater  than  one  on  first  thought  would 
suppose.  If  a  twelve-gauge  gun  of  7>j  lbs,  weight  is  held  against 
the  shoulder  with  a  pressure  of  cSo  lbs.,  it  will,  when  discharged 
with  a  load  of  3  V^  drams  of  powder  and  i  >8  oz.  of  shot,  give  a 
blow  of  30  lbs.  to  the  shooter.  .\  i6-gauge  gun,  with  2*4  drams 
of  powder  and  i  oz.  of  shot,  will  have  a  recoil  of  20  lbs.  above 
the  80  lbs.  of  pressure  against  the  shoulder;  while  a  20-gauge, 
charged  with  2  '4  drams  of  powder  and  Js  of  an  oz.  of  shot,  will 
give  a  push  of  1 5  lbs.  above  the  80  lbs.  of  pressure  against  the 
shoulder.  Often  the  recoil  is  such  that,  though  not  noticed  after 
only  a  few  shots,  separated  by  considerable  intervals,  it  becomes 
disagreeable,  and  even  painful,  to  the  shoulder,  and  especially  to  the 
head  and  eyes,  after  many  shots  ha\'e  been  made  in  rapid  succes- 
sion ;  therefore  the  sportsman,  in  adjusting  his  load  for  recoil,  should 
consider  whether  he  is  to  shoot  only  occasionally,  as  in  the  greater 
portion  of  the  shooting  over  dogs,  or  n'hether  he  is  to  make  a  great 
many  shots  in  rapid  succession,  as  in  shooting  bay-snipe,  rails,  or, 
sometimes,  in  duck-shooting. 

Whether  the  10,  i  2,  or  16  gauge  is  the  best  for  upland  shooting 
depends  on  the  endurance  and  weight  of  the  sportsman,  on  the  dis- 
tances at  which  shots  are  offered,  and  whether  these  are  in  the  open 
or  in  covert.  Taking  the  best  performance  of  each  of  these  gauges, 
the  advantages  of  penetration,  pattern,  and  range  lie  with  the  larger 
gauge.  A  i2-bore,  taking  all  in  all,  is,  in  our  opinion,  the  best 
for  shooting  over  dogs,  either  in  the  open  or  in  covert.  Whether  it 
shall  have  both  barrels  full-choked,  or  one  barrel  full-choked  and  the 
other  either  cylinder-bore  or  modified  choke,  and  whether  the  barrels 
shall  be  long  or  short,  depends  on  the  kind  of  "  shot  "  the  sportsman 
is.  In  these  matters  he  must,  as  in  selecting  the  charges  for  his  gun, 
decide  from  his  experience  what  best  suits  him.  To  lay  down  laws 
on  these  matters  to  which  all  sportsmen  should  conform  is  evidentlv 
absurd.  If  a  sportsman  is  slight  of  build  and  of  moderate  powers 
of  endurance,  let  him  select  a  light  12-gauge  gun  of  7  lbs.  weight 
or  a  i6-gauge  of  6  lbs.  If  his  favorite  sport  is  shooting  Bob  White 
and  woodcock,  and  he  can  afford  only  one  gun,  then  let  him  get  a 
l6-gauge,  of  weight  from  6  to  6'/  lbs.,  w'ith  barrels  of  26  inches  in 


r 
k 


!  \\ 


■\\  ! 


'\\ 


K  m 


r 


f 


784 


The  Slwt-Gun. 


m 


Icnj^th.  Let  his  first  barrel  be  cylinder-bore  and  his  second  eith<;r 
a  modified  or  full  choke,  and  he  will  not  <go  tar  astray. 

[n  deciding  whether  he  shall  have  a  barrel  full-choke,  modified- 
choke,  or  cylinder,  he  should  remember  that  a  12-gauge  full-choked 
gun  will  put  200  pellets  of  No.  7  Tatham  shot  in  a  target  30  inches 
in  diameter  at  40  yards  distant,  while  a  cylinder  barrel  of  same 
gauge  will,  in  similar  circumstances,  put  in  120  to  130;  and  also  that 
the  smaller  gauges  of  16  and  20  generally  throw  their  shot  suffi- 
ciently close  and  regular  without  any  choke,  or,  at  least,  with  vi:ry 
little.  Indeed  this,  1  infer,  is  the  reason  why  these  small  bores 
were  in  such  great  repute  among  upland  shooters  before  the  intro- 
duction of  choke-bored  barrels. 

The  difference  between  carrying  the  weight  of  a  7  >^  or  a  6  lb. 
gun,  while  trifling  to  some  men,  is  to  others  the  difference  between 
weariness  and  cheerfulness. 

Rki.ativk  VVkumits  ok  riiK  same  Mkasukk  ok  Diiikkkn  r  Sizks 
OK  Shot. — The  amounts  of  powder  and  shot  in  the  charges  of  guns 
are  not  weighed  but  measured.  From  time  to  time,  discussions  have 
arisen  among  sportsmen  as  to  the  relative  weights  of  the  sam(> 
measure  of  different  sizes  of  shot,  and  the  subject  is  of  sufficient 
importance  to  demand  a  careful  examination.  To  get  the  weight  of 
an  ounce  measure  of  each  size  of  shot,  I  weighed,  in  an  accurate 
balance,  50  measures-full  of  the  given  sized  shot,  and  divided  the 
weight  by  30.  The  measure  used  is  known  as  Dixon's,  and  is 
the  one  generally  used  by  sportsmen.  The  .shot  used  was  of  the 
American  standard  sizes,  made  by  Tatham  Brothers,  to  whom  we 
are  indebted  for  their  courtesy  in  furnishing  us  with  sizes  made 
with  new  and  carefully  graduated  sieves. 


No.  of  shot. 
I 

2 

3 

4 

S 
6 

7 
8 

9 
10 

II 

12 


/'Jxee.is  of 

No.  of  pellets  to 

I  It.  ill  i^niins 

'/ 

wt.  of  meas- 

1 oz.  0/437  '(' 

1   OS.  of  Dixon's 

ured  oz.  over 

yiam.  ofpclkt. 

limiiis. 

measure. 

437  y^  .•r''"'- 

0.16 

inch. 

7' 

■    ■           4471 

.         9.8 

0.15 

86 

459.0 

21.5 

0.14 

106 

■    •          4.SS-5 

18.0 

0.13 

'32 

•    •          467-7 

•         30-2 

0.12 

168 

•    •          4643 

.     26.8 

0.1 1 

218 

.    .          470.4 

•    32-9 

O.IO 

291 

•    •          479-2 

41.7 

0.09 

399 

•    •          477-7 

40.2 

0.08 

SC8 

.    .          482.4 

44.9 

0.07 

848 

-    •          487.5 

•     50-0 

0.06 

1346 

•    -          489-5 

•    52-0 

0.05 

2326 

•    •          491-3 

-       53-8 

I 


The  Shot- Gun. 


785 


t9S 
48s 
475 

-^ 

/ 

/ 

— 

< 
4<% 

-i 

X 

/ 

/ 

— 

— 

4SS 

/ 

\ 

1 

— 

445 

/ 

4567         8         9        10 
Nl'MBKRS    iiF    SIZES    OF    SHOT. 


In  the  above  diagram  are  shown  at  a  glance  the  relations 
between  the  i  oz.  measure  full  of  shot  of  different  sizes  and  their 
respective  weights.  The  sizes  of  shot  are  given  on  the  horizontal 
line  and  the  weight  on  the  left-hand  vertical  line.  Each  division  of 
the  vertical  scale  equals  one  grain  in  weight.  It  will  be  observed 
that  the  weight  of  the  ounce  measure  full  of  shot  increases  with  the 
smallness  of  the  pellet.  The  irregularities  from  a  smooth  curve 
observed  belonging  to  shot  of  the  sizes  3,  5,  8,  and  11,  are  due 
to  the  fact  that  the  diameters  of  the  pellets  of  these  sizes  are  such 
that  they  do  not  chamber  in  the  measure  as  closely  as  those  of  the 
other  sizes. 

This  is  at  once  seen  in  making  the  comparison  of  the  chambering 
in  the  bottom  of  the  measure  of  one  layer  of  2  and  3,  4  and  5,  or  7 
and  8.  •  ' 

This  particular  shot-measure  gives  too  much  weight  for  all  the 
sizes.  A  measure  of  No.  i  shot  is  about  10  grains  in  excess  of  the 
ounce  of  437>i  grains,  while  a  measure  of  No.  12  is  54  grains  too 
heavy.  The  difference  in  the  weights  of  a  measure  full  of  No.  i 
and  No.  12  is  44  grains ;  in  other  words,  a  measure  of  No.  1 2  shot 
weighs  a  little  more  than  ,V  of  an  ounce  more  than  a  measure  of 
No.  I,  while  the  difference  in  weight  of  a  measure  of  No,  7  and 
No.  1 2  shot  equals  about  -3V  of  an  ounce. 
50 


m 


786 


yv/c  s/iot-(ii(it. 


w 


EXPKRIMI'.NIS  ON     Tlir.   Vi;i.()CITI  i;s  ok    CiIAUOKS  ok  VaKIOIS  SI/KI) 

Shot  Disciiakcki)  kuo.m  Gkns  ok  Twki.vk  and  Tkn  CiAiiw:,  wnii 

Al'n.lCATIONS     OK     rilKSK      HnI'1;U1MK.\1S     to    the    AuT    v)K    SlIiKriLNG 

ON  I  UK  \Vi.\(i. —  In  the  year  1880,  I  matle  very  many  experiments 
on  the  velocity  of  fouhnj^-piece  shot  that  niay  he  ot  interest  to  the 
sportsman,  as  they  have  given  facts  which  lit;  at  the  foundation  of  the 
theor\'  of  shootinn-  on  the  winij.  The  knowledge  of  these  facts, 
while  they  may  serve  to  miide  tin;  experienced  sportsman  in  iiis 
shooting-,  will  not  make  a  crack  shot,  no  more  than  an  elaborate 
description  of  how  to  play  on  the  violin  will  make  a  violinist.  Prac- 
tice alone  will  make  a  Ljood  marksman.  The  knowleilj^e  of  the  facts 
relating-  to  the  velocity  of  shot  will,  however,  often  serve  to  explain 
to  the  sportsman  the  causes  o{  his  failures  to  brini;^  tlown  hirtls 
on  the  wint;-,  and  may  call  his  attention  to  defects  in  his  style  of 
shooting  that  practice  may  correct. 


*i  1 


DkSCRII'ITON.OK  TIIK  CiIKONOSCOPE  LSKl)   IN    IlIK   Exi'KKI  MENIS  ON 

TiiK  Vki.ocitv  ok  Shot,  and  a  Dktkrmination  ok  the  .M.\(;NnT  uk  ok 
THE  Error  in  its  REsii.rs. —  The  chronoscope  used  in  these  experi- 
ments is  very  simple.  It  consists  of  a  metal  cylinder  turning  on  an 
axle  on  which  is  cut  a  screw.  This  screw  moves  in  a  stationary  nut, 
and  this  arrangement  gives  the  cylinder  a  lateral  motion  when  it 
is  revolved  on  its  axle.  The  cylinder  is  covered  with  fine  printing 
paper,  which  is  then  smoked  with  burning  camphor.  A  tuning-fork 
is  screwed  into  one  end  of  a  thick  piece  of  wood.  The  other  end  of 
this  piece  of  wood  is  hinged  to  a  base.  To  the  end  of  one  of  the 
prongs  of  the  fork  is  cemented  with  shellac  a  small,  triangular  piece 
of  foil.  The  fork  is  vibrated  by  a  bow,  and  then  the  hinged  board  is 
brought  down  against  a  stop  so  adjusted  that  the  point  of  the  foil  on 
the  fork  just  touches  the  smoked  paper.  On  now  turning  the  cyl- 
inder, a  wavy  trace  will  be  written  on  it  by  the  vibrations  of  the  fork. 
To  determine  the  number  of  \  ibrations  made  in  one  second  by 
the  fork,  a  good  clock,  accurately  rated,  sent  at  each  second  an 
electric  spark  from  an  induction  coil  out  of  the  tracing-point  and 
through  the  pa|)er.  Thus  the  sinuous  traces  of  the  fork  were 
punctured  by  electric  sparks.  The  number  of  waves  of  the  fork's 
trace  contained  between  two  of  these  punctures  is  the  number  of 
vibrations  made  by  the  fork  in  one  second.  .\  multitude  of  experi- 
ments showed  that  the  range  of  the  determination  of  the  number 


=1  fe 


The  Sliot-Ciiiii. 


787 


of  vibrations  per  second  ot  the  fork  was  very  small,  and  the 
moans  of  several  such  measures  did  not  var\  from  one  another  i)y 
more  than  one-tenth  of  a  vibration,  or,  expressed  in  time,  the  varia- 
tion dill  not  surpass  th(;  ,,-,',; „th  of  a  second.  This  fact  showeil  that 
the  chronoscope.  so  far  as  its  reconls  were  concerned,  was  sutficiently 
constant  and  accurate  for  measures  on  the  velocit)  of  |jrojectiles. 

The  effect  of  temperature  on  the  vibratory  jnrioil  of  the  fork  had 
been  determined  in  a  previous  rest-arch.  It  amounts  to  an  incrc-as(; 
of  .000045  of  the  periodic  time  of  the  fork's  vibration  for  an  increase 
of  1  (V".^.  l-'ahr.  in  the  temperature  of  the  fork. 

The  ,L;uns  used  in  the  experiments  had  reboundinj,^  locks.  The 
primary  current  of  an  induction-coil  passed  throui^h  a  break-piece 
fixed  under  the-  relioiMidinii,^  hammer,  so  that  at  the  instant  the 
cartridLje  was  explodeil  the  electric  cm-rent  was  broken  and  then 
immediately  fornu'd  aj,raiii.  The  current  which  |)assed  through 
this  I)reak-piece  was  leil  by  a  wire  to  an  upright  piece  of  tin  plate 
whose  trout  surface  leaned  ai^ainst  a  thick  copp(M-  wire,  .\nother 
wire  led  from  the  tin  plate  (which  stood  in  a  shallow  iroui^h  of  mer- 
cur\)  back  to  the  battery.  ( )\\v  nominal  of  the  secondary  coil  of  the 
intluctorium  is  connected  with  the  axis  of  the  metal  cyliiulir,  the 
other  terminal  with  the  foot  of  the  fork. 

'I'his  chronoscope  is  worki'd  as  follows:  (  )ne  piTson  \il)rates  the 
fork  with  a  l)()w,  and  iIkmi  brings  the  pointed  foil  down  on  the 
smoked  paper  and  rotates  the  cylinder.  While  tlu'  fork  is  marking,' 
its  sinuous  trace  he  cries  "  fire,"  and  the  other  |)erson  discharges 
the  _L,mn  at  thi;  tin  ]jl:ite.  At  the  instant  the  cartridi^i'  explodes,  a 
minute  spark  issues  from  thi'  tracinL;-poiiil  of  tlu'  fork  and  cuts  a 
small  hole  through  the  blackened  |)a|)er  in  the  sinuous  tract'  of  the 
fork;  anil  when  the  tin  plate  is  knocked  o\er  b\  tlu'  shot,  another 
similar  spark  flii.'s  from  the  tracing-point. 

We  know  the  distance  between  the  breech  of  the  ljum  and  the 
tin  plate;  the  numl)er  of  flexures  in  the  trace  of  the  fork  contained 
between  the  two  spark-holes  L,d\-es  the  time  the  sh(>t  took  to  j^m)  o\'er 
the  known  distance,  whence  the  \elocit\  of  the  shot  ])er  secoiul  is 
readily  computed. 

The  fork  used  in  these  experiments  made  about  250  \ibrations, 
or  flexures,  in  the  trace  in  one  second  ;  so,  if  there  should  appear  ,32 
flexures  between  the  two  s|)ark-lioles,  the  record  would  .yj'ive  -i^j'Vths, 
or  one-ei<jfhth  of  a  second  for  the  timi;  of  fliijhl  of  the  shot  from  the 


i: 


I 


tm^ 


H4   I 


788 


T/ie  Shot-Gun. 


gun  to  the  distant  target.  Two  guns  were  used  in  these  experi- 
ments, one  of  12  the  other  of  10  gauge.  They  were  "full  choke- 
bored,"  and  were  choked  exactly  alike.  They  were  made  by  the 
Colt  Arms  Manufacturing  Co.,  of  Hartford,  Ct. 

The  following  tables  give  the  results  of  our  experiments  : 

I.   10  C'olt  gun,  5  (Irs.  Curtis  &   Harvey     111.   12  (^olt  yun,  3^  drs.  Curtis  vS:  Har- 
powdcr,  ij^  o/..  shot. 

Sh,' of  Sliol,    \'el.  ioyJs.    \'el.  40yds.   I'el.  jovih. 


No.  I  buck  .1153 

FF  .  .  .  .1147 

BH  .  .  .  .  1146 

No.  3  .  .  .  1066 

No.  6  .  .  .1012 

No.  8  .  .  .  995 

No.  10  .  .  .  908 


1067 
1132 
1126 
1015 

963 
880 
803 


928 
«59 

775 
7.6 


vey  powder,  i  M  oz.  of  shot. 

Sht- 0/ S/iot.    I't/.jiiyUs.  IW.  40  vi/s.  Vtl.joyds. 

No.     T  buck .    .  .      .  .  

FF     .    .    .    .    .  .      .  .  

BB     ....    862    .  .      795    .  .  667 

No.    3  ...    844    .  .      754    •  •  696 

No.    6  .    .    .    825    .  .      739    .  .  600 

No.    8  .    .    .    816    .  .      749    .  .  607 

No.  10  .    .    .     796    .  .      680    .  .  610 


Jl.   10  C"oh  gun,  4  drs.  Curtis  v^   Harvey     1\'.   12  Colt  gun,  4  drs.  Curtis  &  Harvey 


powder,  i^  o/.  shot. 

No.  I  buck.  1067  .  . 
FF  ....  1017  .  . 
BH     .    . 


powder,  1^  oz.  of  shot. 


No. 
No. 

No. 
No. 


3  • 

6  . 

8  . 

10  . 


1 000 
989 
966 
920 
848 


1018 
1009 
967 
911 
883 
874 


967 

897 
872 
806 
776 
669 


No.     8 
No.  10 


847 
748 


722 
657 


671 
59'' 


Kach  measure  of  velocity  given  in  these  tables  is  the  mean  value 
obtained  from  several  experiments,  varying  in  number  from  three  to 
six.  The  heading.s,  "velocity  30,  40,  and  50  yards,"  mean  that  the 
numbers  uniler  them  give  the  average  velocities  of  the  flight  of  shot 
over  these  ilistances,  and  not  the  velocities  at  30,  40,  and  50  yards 
from  the  gun. 

It  will  be  observed  that  the  shot  used  were  Nos.  10,  8.  6,  3,  HH, 
1*"F,  and  No.  1  buckshot.  They  were  so  selecteil  because  a  pellet 
of  any  number  in  the  abovt:  .series  weighs  very  nearly  double  the 
preceding  one.  Thus,  a  pellet  of  No.  8  weighs  double  one  of  No. 
10,  a  pellet  of  No.  6  weighs  double  one  of  No.  8,  and  so  on. 
rh(;se  relations  of  weight  among  \.\\v  pellets  wiTe  obtained  so  that 
1  could  readily  reach  tht-  relations  rxisting  betwt-en  the  velocity 
of  gunshcjt  and  the  weight  of  the  pellet.  The  .shot  used  was 
kindly  furnished  me  by  Tatham  i^  Bros.,  of  New  York,  who  u.sed 
carefully  gaugt;d  sieves  in  their  manufacture.     The  powder  used  was 


The  Shot- Cm/. 


789 


.  667 
.  696 

600 
.   607 

610 


Curtis  &  Harvey's  Diamond  (irain  No.  6.  The  powcirr  and  shot  in  each 
cartridge  fired  had  been  carefully  weij^rhed  out  in  an  accurate  balance. 
A  glance  at  the  tables  at  once  shows  the  rapid  increase  in  the 
velocity  of  gunshot  from  No.  10  up  to  No.  3.  With  thi-  heavii^r 
pellets   the   increase    in  velocity  is   less    marked.        Thus    the    table 


headed  "  10  Colt  gun,  4  drs.  Curtis  &  Harvey.  1  %  oz.  shot  "  shows 
that  No.  8  shot  has  72  feet  per  second  velocity  over  No.  lo  shot, 
and  No.  6  has  46  feet  over  No.  8,  while  No.  3  has  only  23  f(;et  over 
No.  6,  and  HH  shot  gains  only  1 1  feet  over  No.  3. 

The  relations  between  velocity  and  weight  of  pellet  shown  in 
this  table  may  be  taken  as  a  type  of  all  the  experiments,  and  i 
have  graphically  shown  their  relations  in  the  accompanying  curve. 

The  divisions  on  the  scale,  measured  from  the  bottom  line  up- 
ward, give  the  velocity  per  second  of  the  pellets.  One  unit  on  this 
scale  equals  20  feet  of  flight  of  a  pellet,  and  a  unit  of  the  scale, 
measured  from  right  to  left  on  the  diagram,  e([uals  one  unit  of  weight 
of  pellet.  The  weight  of  a  pellet  of  No.  10  shot  is  here  taken  as  tiie 
unit  of  weight.  The  numbers  of  the  shot  are  written  under  the  hori- 
2ontal  line  ;  the  velocities  on  the  vertical  line.  When  the  curve  inter- 
sects these  lines,  we  find  the  velocity  given  on  the  vertical  scale 
corresponding  to  the  number  or  weight  of  shot  given  on  the  hori- 
zontal line  of  the  diagram. 

So  far  as  the  experiments  with  these  two  special  guns  show, 
there  is  no  doubt  a  great  superiority  in  the  10  over  th(;  12  gauge 
gun,  when  each  is  loaded  with  the  same  weight  qi  powder  and  shot. 
50A 


I 


i 


il! 


>    ' !        ! 


790 


I'lw  Sliot-Ciiin. 


Tluis,  with  ihc  saint'  char^fc  ol  |»(i\v(Ur  ami  sliol,  .\  ilrs.  poutlcr  ami 
I  '4  ()/.  sliol,  liicd  Irom  the  lo-j^'auj^r,  j,fi\fs  a  Vfloiily  ol  100  fret 
Iter  sccdiul  more  than  tliat  j^Mvcn  hy  th«'  1  i-j^aiij^'c  This  facl  is  coii- 
ciiisivcl)  shown  in  tlic  coiniiarison  ol  the  tij^aircs  in  llic  two  tai)l(;s 
hcadt'd  "10  C'oh  ;4nn,  4  drs.  C  c\:  1 1,  powilcr,  and  1  '»  o/.  shot"  and  "  1  2 
C'oU  }^un,  4  (h-s.  L',  tS:  II.  powdir,  and  1  '+  >)/.  shot,"  The  dirurcncc 
in  vH'locit)  was  in  favor  ol  the  lo-iL^auj^c  in  (lach  of  the  si.\t\  separate 
(•xiitrinu.'nls,  which  were  made  to  ^^ct  the  nnniliers  (contained  in  ihe 
al>ov(!-mentioned  tables)  on  the;  lines  of  \o.  S  and  No.  10  shot. 

With  \o.  10  shot  the  nu'an  velocity  jL;i\en  l)\  thi'  lo-j^raiiim'  j^nni 
o\(.r  the  first  y^  ) arils  is  S4.S  feet.  W  ith  the  same  charge  in  the 
I  s-tjauiLji'  tlu!  velocit)  is  748  feet,  sh<>\vm}.,f  a  difference-  of  100  feet  in 
fa\()r  of  the  lo-i^auj^e.  With  No.  S  shot  the  ilifferenc<f  amounts  to 
72  feet.  The  avera.i;e  difference  in  favor  of  the  io-i,raiiife  in  the 
flight  of  shot  Nos.  S  and  10  over  40  Nards  amounts  to  i  10  feet. 

If  ue  assume-,  as  we  c(-rtainly  ma\  without  grave  error,  that  the 
pem-tration  of  shot  varies  as  the  s(|uarc  of  its  velocits,  thi-se  experi- 
nunts  will  give  the  relative  penetrations  of  the  10  to  ihi;  12  gauge 
about  as  c;  is  to  7.  Thi-se  experiments  show  that  the  recent  move- 
menl  in  favor  of  small-bon-  guns  is  ont;  in  the  wrong  ilirection.  It 
appears  that  a  lo-gauge  gun,  if  of  aboui  8  lbs.  weight,  woulil  be  the 
best  fowling-pii-ce  for  upland  shooting. 

That  the  10-gauge  shows  such  superiority  ovtM-  the  12  maybe 
accountetl  for  by  the  fact  that  the  same  charge  occupies  less  length  in 
a  10  than  il  does  in  a  i  2  bore,  and  hence  there-  are  fewer  pellets  in  con- 
tact with  the  barrel  of  the  former  than  of  the  latter  to  oppose  b\  their 
friction  the  projectile  force  ol  the  powder;  and  secondly,  the  powder  in 
a  lo-gauge  is  exploded  ni-arer  the  center  of  its  volume,  and  thus  doe  > 
not  have  so  much  chance  of  blasting  before  it  the  unburnt  powiler  con- 
tained in  the  portion  of  the  charge  removeil  from  the  point  of  ignition. 

I  also  vcMiture  to  predict  that  with  the  same  weight  of  barrels  the 
lo-gauge  will  not  heat  as  much  as  the  12,  because  the;  motion  of  the 
shot,  lost  by  the  greater  resistance  it  opposes  in  a  i  2-gauge  cartridge, 
must  appear  in  the  form  of  heat. 

The  third  fact  which  these  experiments  show  is  that  with  i  >«  oz. 
of  shot  and  3  '4  drs.  of  powder  an  average  velocity  is  obtained  which 
requires  4  drs.  of  powder  to  give  i  %  oz.  of  shot  a  velocity  equal  to  that 
given  by  3^  drs.  to  i  'a  oz.    Now,  4  drs.  of  powder,  if  not  tired  from 


m-h\ 


\m 


The  Shot-CiiuL 


791 


a  j^iin  w(;ij;hiii]i,f  at  least  9  ||)s,,  ami  Iniin  a  j^ikmI,  siruin;,  imisiiilar 
shoiikk'r,  is  (lisaj^rci'iil)lr  The  crtVci  im  the  IxkK,  ami  tspt'ciall)  on 
tile  Itrain,  is  ncithur  cuiuliici\«' to  |)lrasaiii  imr  to  i^ooil  siiooiiiiL;.  Ilic 
luiinlici  of  iicllcts  in  11  cliargi-  ot  1  '4  o/,  ol'  NO.  S  shot  is  .jc^c;.  In  a 
i-harn'i  (I  I  'h  «>/.  ot  the  sainr  shot  there  are  -|4(>.  therefore  onl)  50 
pellets  niori;  in  a  char^a'  of  1  \  o/.  than  in  .1  diarj^f  of  1  '  ■.  o/.;  ami 
surely  the  want  ol  the  50  will  not  cause  a  j.i;ootl  shot  to  miss  his  hjrd 
with  44(;  pellets,  nor  will  the  addition  of  the  51)  L;i\c  a  had  shot  ,in\ 
mori.'  chance  of  hrinj^inj;  his  hird  to  Ikil;  u  ith  his  4(>()  pellets. 

There  are  two  styles  of  shootinj^  on  the  wini;.  (  >ne  is  calK'd 
"  snap-slu)otinJ.,^"  wluTt;  the  shooter,  on  seU'ctiuL;  the  hird  which  he 
wishes  to  l)a,n',  ([uic-kly  hrinj^^s  the  i^un  lo  his  shoulder  and,  at  llu; 
instant  it  is  in  place,  hres.  If  the  liird  is  a  cross  shot,  he  deter- 
mines, at  the  moment  of  fu'e,  the  ilistance  lo  which  he  should  direct 
his  <;im  aheail  of  its  (lii^ht,  this  distance  depending;  on  the  velocil\  of 
the  biril's  llii^ht  ami  on  his  ilistance  from  it.  'I'his  manner  ol' sliooiinu; 
is  practiceil  the  more  i^enerallx  by  upland  j;unners  in  shoolinj^  ([u.iil, 
if  rouse,  and  woodcock. 

riu-  other  style  of  shootin*;'  may  lie  designated  as  "the  swint;"- 
shol,"  in  which  tlu-  gunner  swim^s  his  141m  ahead  ol  the  i  ross  tli!.;ht 
of  the  hirtl  till  he  attains  the  proper  distance  ahead  of  it,  and  then 
tires;  hut  he  keeps  his  i;'un  mo\in_i;,  with  a  rei^ular  angular  \clocity. 
till  alter  its  dischari;c.  This  method  of  shoolim;  is  certainly  the 
only  one  which  has  hei  n  foimd  successlul  in  the  shoolini^  ol  l)a\' 
fowl,  as  ducks,  hrant,  anil  wild  L;('ese.  'Tlu're  are  sportsmen  who 
will  conleml  that  they  meri'ly  follow  the  liird  with  the  j,nm,  and  dis- 
chari^e  it  while  it  is  pointini^  directly  at  the  hird.  I  onct;  put  ihis 
opinion  to  thi'  test  in  the  following  manner:  i'Our  willels  came  oxer 
the  di'co\s,  llyiiiL;  in  line  with  a  t^ood  speed.  With  m\  L;un  I  followed 
the  leailin.^'  bird  coolly  ami  accurately,  and  kept  the  \i\\w  moving 
rei^ularl)-  after  its  dischari^u-.  Insli-ad  of  killini;  the  liird  aimed  it, 
the  thiril  from  the  li'ader  ilropped  dead. 

To  i^ive  a  rule  applicable  to  all  L^unners,  for  the  distance  at  which 
a  i^un  should  be  held  ahead  of  a  bird  in  the  "sw  ini^-shoi,"  is  not 
|)()ssible.  Some  sportsmi-n  follow  a  bird,  and  tluMi,  alter  reaching 
before  it  the  projx-r  distance.  suddenK  stop  the  angular  motion  ol 
the  i^un,  and  then  fire.  Others,  after  followinj^  the  bird  a  short  dis- 
tance, give  a  (juick,  lateral  motion  to  the  gun,  and  then  lire.      Others, 


r  J 


[■■1 
r  I 


792 


The  Shot-Gttn. 


K       if 


i  ' 


,  \ 


again,  bring  the  gun,  with  a  lateral  motion,  ahead  of  the  bird,  and 
keep  the  gun  moving  till  their  experience  decides  the  proper  distance 
ahead  of  its  flight,  and  then  fire  while  the  gun  is  keeping  its  previous 
regular  angular  velocity. 

For  the  simple  illustration  of  the  bearing  of  these  experiments  on 
the  art  of  shooting  on  the  wing,  I  will  suppose  that,  at  the  moment 
of  fire,  the  gun  is  stationary  ;  in  other  words,  that  we  are  firing 
"  snap  shots."  If  the  bird  has  a  velocity  across  the  line  of  sight  of 
30  miles  an  hour  (/.  c,  44  ft.  per  sec),  and  we  are  using  charges 
in  a  i2-gaug('  gun  of  3^  drs.  of  Curtis  &  Harvey  powder  and 
I  '/8  oz.  of  shot,  we  shall  have  to  shoot  about  5  feet  ahead  of  the 
bird  if  it  is  fl)  iiig  at  a  distance  of  30  yards  ;  at  7  feet  ahead,  if  at  a 
distance  of  40  )  ards,  and  i  i  feet  ahead  of  the  bird,  if  at  a  distance 
of  50  yards. 

These  distances  ahead,  for  cross-shots  at  birds  flying  at  the  rate 
of  30  miles  an  hour,  may  appear  out  of  all  reason  with  the  experi- 
ences of  many  sportsmen  ;  but  a  few  simple  experiments  will  con- 
vince them  that  they  generally  hold  farther  ahead  of  a  cross-flying 
bird  than  they  are  aware.  In  the  grass  of  a  level  field  tlrive  two 
twigs,  far  removed  from  fence-rails  or  any  familiar  object  with  which 
can  be  compared  the  distance  separating  the  twigs ;  then  bring  your 
friend  up  to  40  yards  distanc  f  the  twigs  and  ask  him  if  he  would 
hold  ahead,  by  the  distance  scr  •:•  aimg  the  twigs,  at  a  cross-flying 
duck  going  over  the  twigs.  He  will,  in  all  probability,  tell  you, 
"Certainly,  the  twigs  are  only  about  18  inches  apart."  .Similar 
exi^eriments  made  with  rough  sticks  and  Ijranches  suspended  in  the 
air  at  various  distances  have  convinced  me  that  it  is  very  difficult  to 
judge  accurately  of  the  actual  distance  you  hold  ahead  of  birds, 
especially  when  they  are  flying  over  water  or  in  the  open. 

Ox  iiiK  FouM  oi'  riiK  CiiAK(;i-:  ok  Shot  Dischakci-;!)  from  a 
Gl'\. —  Does  the  shot  discharged  from  a  gun  progress  through  the 
air  in  tht;  form  of  a  cylinder,  a  sphere,  or  in  the  shape  of  a  spindle  ? 
VV^e  have  made  experiments  which  show  that  tiie  cloud  of  shot  as  it 
passes  through  the  air  changes  its  shape  as  it  goes  from  the  muzzle 
to  a  distance,  and  that  its  general  form  is  egg  or  s])indle  shaped. 
We  regret  that  the  experiments  on  this  interesting  and  quite  im- 
portant subjecc  of  investigation  have  not  been  brought  to  the  com- 


f*i 


The  Shot- Gun. 


793 


pletion  we  desire  before  their  publication.  It  may,  liovvever,  interest 
our  readers  to  know  how  one  can  see  the  form  of  the  cloud  of  shot 
as  it  rushes  through  the  air  at  the  rate  of  800  or  more  of  feet  in  a 
second.  It  is  viewed  in  the  following  manner:  A  disk  of  al)out 
6  inches  in  diameter,  formed  of  thin  black  paper,  has  cut  in  it  one 
or  more  narrow,  radical  slits.  The  disk  is  set  in  rapid  rotation,  by 
means  of  clock-work,  and  the  top  of  the  disk  rotates  in  a  direction 
opposed  to  that  of  the  charge  of  shot.  On  looking  through  the 
slit  at  a  point  on  white  background  while  the  charge  of  shot  is 
passing,  one  gets  an  instantaneous  glance  at  the  passing  shot, 
which  is  of  such  short  duration  that  all  the  shot  appear  stationary  in 
the  line  of  sight.  By  changing  the  position  of  the  apparatus  and 
the  point  at  which  you  view  the  passing  cloud  of  shot,  you  obtain 
views  of  its  form  at  various  distances  from  the  yjun. 

In  our  experiments  on  the  velocity  of  shot,  the  numbers  given  are 
those  which  refer  to  the  pellets  which  first  struck  the  target.  A 
cross-flying  bird  shot  at  must  be  struck  successively  by  pellets  as 
it  passes,  and  the  killing  power  of  a  gun  evidently  depends  on  the 
form  of  the  cloud  of  shot  which  it  projects  and  high  velocities  given 
to  the  pellets  forming  the  cloud  of  shot. 


O.N  THK  l<"iriiNG  OK  I'liK  (iiN  K)  riiK  SiiooTKR. — There  are 
two  dimensions  of  a  gun  which  must  conform  to  the  shooter,  in 
order  that  he  may  shoot  successfully  and  comfortably.  These 
are  the  length  of  the  stock,  measured  from  the  middle  of  the  butt- 
plate  to  the  front  trigger,  and  the  "drop"  of  tlie  stijck.  or  ihe 
distance  from  the  upper  edge  of  the  toe  of  the  butt  to  a  straight 
edge  laid  on  the  rib  of  the  gun  and  e.xtending  to  the  tMul  of  die 
butt.  If  the  purchaser  will  try  the  tit  of  several  guns  of  different 
lengths  and  drop  of  stock  in  the  following  manner,  he  may  si'lcct 
one  wiiicli  will  exactly  suit  him  :  .Stand  in  front  of  a  muTor 
phuHxl  flat  against  a  wall.  Throw  the  gun  into  ijosition  to  ;)"n 
at  \our  right  eye.  If  )OU  now  see  \our  eye  just  above  Uie  ril), 
:in(l  also  the  upper  surface  of  tlie  rib  of  tlie  gun,  you  may  con- 
clude—  if  the  gun  always  counts  into  this  position  —  that  it  fits  you. 
Tliat  customers  may  select  the  gun  best  ada[)teu  to  their  use,  gun 
dealers  should  have  on  hand  one  with  a  stock  whose  length  and  drop 
could  be  altered  by  means  of  screws  or  clamps. 


a.f 


m 


u' 


794 


7V/e  Sliot-Gitn. 


Hamii.inc;  oi'  Gins  i.\  iiiii  I'iki.d. —  Always  carry  your  j^iin 
pointing-  upward,  and  never,  under  any  circumstances,  hold  your  j^un 
in  any  other  position,  except  at  the  moment  of  bringing  it  into  posi- 
tion to  fire.  Some  sportsmen  carry  the  gun  pointing  downward,  and 
bring  it  into  position  at  the  shoulder  by  elevating  the  muzzle.  This 
is  not  the  proper  way  to  bring  a  gun  into  position  to  get  a  rapid  and 
sun;  aim  ;  and  also,  it  is  evidently  dangerous  to  sweep  the  muzzle 
of  a  gun  from  the  ground  upward  just  as  you  an;  ai)out  to  taki'  aim 
and  to  pull  the  trigger.  Many  accidents  have  occurred  to  fellow- 
sp(frtsmen  and  to  dogs  i)y  tin;  finger  inaiUerlentU  touching  ihe 
trigger  as  the  barrel  is  lifteil  into  position,  if  the  band  is  carrietl 
pointing  upwanl  and  then  dropped  to  the  line  t)f  aim,  the  slock  at 
the  same  time  describes  an  arc  upwanl.  and  falls  naturally  and  easily 
into  position  insiile  of  the  shouliler.  Keep  your  trigger  fmger  untier 
the  guard  till  your  gun  is  in  jjosition  to  fire. 

Hefi)re  jum|)ing  ditches  or  climbing  over  fences,  put  \()ur  hammers 
at  half-cock.  If  carrying  a  hamnu'rless  gun.  throw  the  sat(>l\ -catch 
into  action,  then  grasp  your  gun  firmly  in  the  right  hantl  and  hold  it 
in  a  vertical  position.  In  going  through  thick  covert  of  briers,  xines, 
or  brush,  put  your  hand  over  the  hammers. 

Withdraw  the  cartridges  as  soon  as  you  luui-  cK:cided  to  shoot 
no  more  that  day.  If  you  carry  a  hammerless  gun,  let  no  one  touch 
it  till  you  have  drawn  the  cartridge's. 

iV)ys  and  persons  learning  to  shoot  shouki  not  W-  allowcti  to 
carry  in  the  field  a  loadetl  gun  in  the  company  of  sportsmen  till  they 
have  satisfied  the  sportsmen  that  they  will  carry  their  arms  in  a 
manner  that  will  insure,  as  far  as  possible,  freedom  Irom  accident 
to  themselves  and  to  their  companions. 


1)1     \ 


Cark  ok  ( iiNs. — .Always  clean  your  gun  after  the  day's  shooting. 
Tow,  crash,  or  tlannel  are  good  materials  to  wipe  out  the  barrels 
with.  If  the  air  is  dry  and  the  powder  is  caked,  a  little  moisture 
should  be  used  on  the  wiper.  Then  dry  the  barrels  thorougliK  with 
tlry  wipes;  then  oil  a  soft  iron  brush,  or  t)oo  sand-pa|)er  backed  with 
flannel,  and  get  the  leail  out  of  the  barrels;  then  wipe  ihem  tlry  and 
oil  them  ami  the  outside  of  breech-action,  locks,  and  stock.  Before  you 
put  the  barrels  in  the  gun-case,  close  up  tin;  breech  antl  muzzle  with 
plugs  made  of  llannt;!  or  cork  saturated  with  purified  sperm  oil.      If 


I  "I  sM 


Tlic  S hot- C,  nil. 


795 


your  shooting  has  been  in  salt  air,  give  your  gun  —  after  cleaning  it — 
a  thick  coating  of  purified  lard  oil,  such  as  is  used  in  the  light-houses, 
for  this  is  the  best  lubricant  to  prevent  the;  corrosix  (•  action  of  salt  air. 

The  honey-combing  of  gun-barrels  is  causc;d  by  the  residue,  left 
by  the  exploded  [jowder,  setting  up  a  galvanic  action  between  the 
iron  antl  steel  composing  Damascus  and  laminated  steel  barrels,  or 
between  the  tlifferent  grades  of  iron  forming  twist  barrels.  This 
fact  I  have  proved  by  the  following  experiments  : 

A  piece?  of  "low-carbon"  stec-l  and  a  piece  of  soft  iron  were 
placed  each  in  a  separate;  vessel,  containing  a  very  dilute  solution  of 
sulphuric  acid,  or  a  solution  of  the  n.'sichu;  from  gun-barrels.  It  was 
found  that  each  metal  was  acted  on  and  corrodetl.  Hut  on  [)lacing 
the  bars  of  iron  and  steel  in  the  same  vessel  of  dilute  acid,  and 
bringing  in  contact  their  upper  ends  which  were  outside  the  acid,  it 
was  observed  that  the  iron  now  dissolved  rapidl),  while  the  steel 
was  barely  acted  on.  MoreoviM",  on  connecting  the  ends  of  the  steel 
and  iron  bars  with  a  galvanomet<;r,  w(;  observed  that  an  electric  cur- 
rent was  in  action,  and  that  the  soft  iron  held  tlu'  same  relation  to 
the  steel  as  the  zinc  plate  in  a  battery  holds  to  the  plate  of  coj)per, 
platinum,  or  carbon.  On  placing  pieces  of  laminated  and  Damascus 
barrels  in  the  tlilute  acid,  they  became  honc-y  combed  after  a  lew 
days  by  the  corrosion  of  the  soft  iron  of  the  barrc;ls,  and  reproduced 
the  exact  a|)pearance  of  barrels  honey-combed  by  ordinary  use;. 

This  honey-combing  is  therefore  produced  by  a  want  of  homo- 
geneity in  the  material  composing  the  barrels  ;  and  as  it  occurs  (!ven 
when  the  greatest  care  is  taken  to  clean  the  barrels  after  each  day's 
shooting,  it  appears  that  it  can  only  be  preventetl  by  forming  gun- 
barrels  out  of  some  substance  which  has  the  same-  structure  and 
composition  throughout  all  its  mass  —  such  as  (.Uxarbonizeil  steel  or 
pure  cast-steel.  If  aluminum  could  be;  obtained  cheaplv,  it  would 
make  the  best  of  barrels.  Bulk  for  bulk,  this  metal  weighs  only  one- 
third  of  steel,  and  there  would  be  no  tlifficulty  in  making  the  barrels 
thick  enough  to  have  sutticicMit  strength.  .Aluminum  bronze  might 
be  tried  as  a  material  for  oun-l)arrels. 


^ 


I 


>l     ! 


I  'i 


I    ^ 


^r> 


OUT  OF   DOORS 


R 


U     f 


J   f 


I     I 


//'  /  UI///1/  put  my  U'i>(i(/s  ill  «'>!.t;- 
Aih/  /.//  r.'//<//  '.V  //hir  <ii/i>y,-<L 
AN  nun  uvwA/  /<•  my  .di.l.iis  lliioni:. 
And  ii'iiTt-  thi;  cities  -vid. 

—  /iiiicrsiui. 


II 


IJ'J 


n'Bi 


w 

f    *   ' 

B 

f      < 

|. 

i        ■'' 

1 

'1i 

,  '-1 

1 

Pf 

^1        ' 

!'    I 


J    I 


*   A 


CAMPS    AND     IRAMPS    AHOl    T    KTAADN. 


Hv    ARIiOk    I  l,K\. 


THAT  nol)le  mountain  Ktaadn,*  towering  j^rand  and  peculiar 
out  of  the  vast'  and  undulating  forest  of  northern  Maine,  its 
lofty  head  a  pyramid  with  ragged  apex  as  of  a  volcano,  its  ever 
luminous  face  looking  serenely  southward  and  mirrored  in  a  hiuidred 
lakes,  its  huge  body  lying  leagues  along  to  the  north  and  jjlowed 
into  gorges  by  the  glaciers  of  jeons, —  Ktaadn  and  its  retinue  of 
magnificent  domes,  sole  representatives  of  the  primal  continent, — all 
these  have  been  sung  by  the  poet  and  portrayed  by  the  painter. 

Imagine  that  you  are  fifty  miles  from  any  railway,  twenty-five 
from  the  nearest  highway,  and  thirtee  >  from  a  practicable  footing  for 
any  apparatus  of  transportation  other  than  human  legs ;  that  you 
have  come  to  stay  a  month  ;  that  jour  jjarty,  some  of  whom  are 
not  strong,  is  to  be  wholesomely  and  plentifully  fed,  and  protected 
against  rain,  frost,  and  probably  snow  ;  thai  the  forest  affords  no 
other  habitation  or  subsistence  to  you  than  to  the  wild  animals  about 
you  ;  that  game  is  uncertain,  and  fish,  while  large  enough,  indeed, 
to  delight  the  sportsman,  are  not  plentiful  enough  to  insure  subsist- 
ence; —  fancy  this,  and  you  will  indeed  have  come  short  of  a  lumber- 
man's idea  of  roughing  it;  but  you  will  have  put  yourself  in  a  |juzzle 
over  two  propositions — ist,  as  the  woods  provide  little,  much  must 
be  carried  in  ;  2d,  as  little  can  be  carried  in,  the  woods  must  fiirnish 
much.      The  resultant  of  these  oppo.sed  ideas  nui)-  l)e  expressed  by 

*  The  orthography — Ktaadn  —  is  not  that  ol'  the  maps;  the  Maine  State  College 
peo|)le,  who  ought  to  be  allowed  to  name  their  own  mountains,  insist  ujjon  "Ktahchn." 
But  those  eminent  authorities,  Thoreau  and  J.  Hammond  Trumbull, —  the  latter  our 
best  expert  in  Indian  nomenelature, —  prescribe  tiie  s])elling  here  ado|)ted. 

51 


I 


'  it 


m  {■■ 


f 


802 


Camps  mni  Tramps  About  Ktaadii. 


m 


;ji' 


i!|< 


Si  tr 


tlic  follfnvini;  forimilii: — skill  x  pork  +  l)l;mkcts  success.  Skill,  in 
tin:  form  ol  cxptrictncLd  anil  stronj^  guides,  transports  itself  and  the 
other  necessaries;  pork  means  heat  and  tissiii;  in  the  smallest  com- 
pass; warm  and  waterproof  clothinj^  are  ohviously  intlispensable. 
1  lard-hread,  tea,  siiL^ar,  anil  a  few  lemons  (anti-scorhutic)  are  indis- 
piMisahle;  beans,  wheat  flour,  and  hakinj^  powders,  potatoes,  rice, 
and  a  few  raisins  (a  little  sweet  is  so  swc(;t  in  the  wooils),  shouUI  be 
taken  where  transportation  is  not  too  difficult.  Indian  iiK.'al,  canned 
meats  and  vej^etables,  and  butter,  furnish  the  nu-ans  of  occasional 
lu.xuries.  With  rt.).,far(l  to  spirits,  rum  is  probably  the  best  adapted, 
and,  while  a  little  is  ni;cessary  in  case  of  e.xhaustion  or  chill,  and 
ofttMi  has  a  hygienic  importance,  it  is  a  very  serious  mistake,  as  the 
hardy  lumbermen  well  know ,  to  use  it  as  a  stimulant  before  exertion, 
or  freely  at  any  time. 

The  natural  essentials  of  a  permanent  camp  are,  ist,  conven- 
ient proximity  to  water  ;  2d,  a  forest  to  shiekl  the  works  from  the 
sun,  and  the  tents  and  the  fire  (;specially  from  heavy  winds  ;  3d. 
a  level  bit  of  ground  having  as  dry  a  nature  as  may  be,  and  some 
natural  drainage.  'J'he  artificial  essentials  are,  a  camp-fire  and  a 
tent  for  the  party  and  another  for  the  guides.  To  this  may  be 
added  a  tent  to  be  used  for  putting  supplies  out  of  the  rain,  and  also 
for  putting  them  out  of  sight.  The  working  drawings  and  the  night 
view  so  fully  illustrate  the  arrangement  and  construction  of  our 
camp  that  little  other  description  is  re(|uired.  I'^ig.  i  is  a  cross  sec- 
tion through  the  center  of  tents  and  camp-fire.  Fig.  2  is  a  ground 
plan  and  a  horizontal  section  of  the  surrounding  trees.  Permanent 
tents  are  "  logged"  a  foot  or  two  high  on  three  sides,  and  the  ends 
are  covered  with  thin  boards  split  from  white  cedar  logs,  or  with 
birch-bark  or  boughs.  The  roof  is  a  piece  of  heavy  cotton  cloth 
soaked  in  brine  to  protect  it  against  the  sparks  of  the  camp-fire,  and 


"^^'^^i^^^'^Wf^^i^^^^^^!^ 


CKcjss   skc:tii)N   of   cami 


V  i 


Camps  ami  Tramps  .Iboitf  Ktaadii. 


803 


o 


c  -* 


0 


•J:  V-. 


(^ 


O        ^  -■^^' 


ye.<^ 


CT— --ir-rga       £^ 


o 


Q 


/"I         "^  ©    1 


O 


O 


o 


\ 


o 


.\\ 


\ 


'^ 


liKOlMi     I'i.W     iJl      (AMI'. 


supported  on  poles.  Tlu;  front  is  ([iiiii;  optMi  to  tlic  tire,  not  to  spiak 
of  the  rain.  The  <rroiincl  forniinij  the  floor  is  smoolhttd  off  and  cov- 
ered thickly  with  small  lx)u<rhs  of  (;ver,»rreen  ;  upon  tlu.-se  the  riihher 
and  woolen  blankets  which  form  the  beds  are  laid.  Ihc  ■  hcacon's 
seat,"  a,  Imj;'.  i,  answers  almost  every  other  purpose  of  domestic 
furnitun;.  Our  store-house  and  tlininij-room  was  constructed  of 
round  sticks,  roofed  and  covered  at  one  end  with  white  cedar 
"splints."  The  wash-stand  was  at  c;  tin.'  hean-hole,  c,  will  lie  fur- 
ther referred  to.  The  cam|)-fire  is  laid  on  two  "  hand  chucks,"  i,  i, 
or  on  two  suitable  stones,  and  consists  of  loi(s  from  four  to  fourti'cn 
inches  in  diameter  and  eij^ht  to  fourtec^n  feet  lony.  Three-(|uarters 
of  a  cord  of  wood  are  burned  ])er  da\-.  l->in^  in  a  three.'  sideil  tent, 
wrapped  in  blankets  and  water-jiroofs,  with  onc-'s  fet'l  a  length  off 
from  such  a  fire,  is  protection  aj^^ainst  anj-  sort  of  bad  w(;ather,  and 
yet  it  realizes  every  advantaj^'e  of  beinL,-^  out-of-doors.  .\  temporarv 
tent  may  consist  of  a  mere  cloth  or  of  boughs  laitl   ujjon  inclined 


i 


ii 


8o4 


Camps  ami  Tmnips  .Ihoiit  Ktaaiiii. 


P'V-\\  '    • 


p  i'  ti. 


\ 


iii 


I    'Mi 


f>t. 


NIOirr    VII'.W    (IK     IHK    CAMI'. 


poles,  or  it  may  he  logged  or  otherwise  r'-enforced  according  to  the 
weather.  Smaller  jiarties  sometimes  prefer  the  "A"  ti;iit.  Works 
like  ours  may  he  built  from  standing  trees,  in  a  day  or  tw(i  hy  three 
expert  guides.  Our  cam[)  was  placed  some  thirty  rods  f'  Ktaadn 
Lake,  and  a  good  path  was  cut  to  it  through  the  underv 

We  are  a  party  of  six  excursionists  and  five  guides.  I'our  of  us 
are  artists,  whom  we  will  call  Don  Cathedra,  Don  (iifaro,  Herr 
Rubens,  and  M.  Di;  Woods.  Two  of  us  are  professional  men, —  M. 
La  Rose  and  myself  Mr.  .\ri)or  Ilex. 

.At  7  I'.  M.,  September  4th,  we  boarded  an  Hastern  Railroad 
sleeping-car  at  Boston.  We  breakfasted  in  Bangor  and  dincal  in  tht; 
village  of  Mattewanikeag,  on  the  European  and  North  .American 
Railwa)',  tifty-eight  miles  further,  where  we  met  our  chief  guide  and 
bought  our  heavy  su])plies.  W^edged  with  our  iiiipcdiiticnta  into 
two  wagons,  we  jogged  twent\-five  miles  to  the  northward, 
and  slept  in  the  outlying  settlement  of  Sherman.  On  the  bright 
morning  of  the  6th  we  and  our  roughing  baggage  were  packed 
into  a  four-horse,  springless  wagon,  with  the  running  gear  of  a 
gun-carriage  and  the  side-grating  of  a  bear-cage.  The  signifi- 
cance of  this  construction  soon  became  obvious.  Upon  driving 
sonv    half-uo/en    miles    to    the    eastward,   we    suddenh     rose  upon 


8    I 


I 


Camps  ami  Tmmps  About  Ktaailii. 


805 


ii  cri;st  where  Ktaadn  ami  its  rctiniu:  of  lesser  nioiintains  burst 
upon  our  view. — a  nvelation  of  jfraiuleur  ami  beauty  all  the  more 
impressive  because  the  previous  scener)'  had  been  so  tame.  At 
noon,  away  out  beyond  the  precincts  of  permanent  iiat)ilati()n,  we 
hail  our  first  out-of-door  dinner.  ( )ur  sportsmen  cast  in  Swift 
Urook  for  trout  without  success — it  was  a  bad  tinu'  of  year:  but 
a  slice  of  pork  toasted  on  a  forked  stick,  a  piece  of  hard-tack, 
and  a  cup  of  milkless  tea  were,  thus  early  in  our  <iu  st  of  healthy 
appetites,  more  palatable  than  a  ivi^oiif  at  I  )elnu)nico's.  'I'lu- 
excursionists,  excepting  myself,  walketl  on  ;  two  <4uid(  s  and  1  stuck 
(with  difificulty)  to  tin;  waj^on,  upon  a  road  consistin}.f  of  a  slit 
cut  throu^di  a  tiense  forest,  over  a  tract  of  stumps,  mud,  thinly 
corduroyed  swam|)s.  and  j^^ranite  bowlders.  The  forest  was  broken 
only  by  "  the  farm"  or  "  Hunt's,"  whert;  hay  and  vej^'etables  were  raised 
in  the  early  hunberinj^^  days,  now  a  temporary  habitation.  Here, 
on  the  east  branch  of  the  Penobscot,  I  fouml  our  part)  fishinjf 
without  success,  but  canoeinj^^  with  threat  satisfaction.  This  whole 
territory,  except  a  few  tracts,  was  burned  over  forty  years  aj^^o ; 
some  of  the  nc;w  j^^rowth  is  already  j^^ootl  timber,  and  here  and  there 
a  dead  monarch   stretches  his  huj^^e  form  acror.s  our  path. 

A  canoe  ride  two  miles  up  the  east  branch  was  to  im-  as  de- 
li}.;htful  as  it  was  novel.  Our  stalwart  j,fuide  fairly  lifted  our  lari^er 
"  birch "  with  its  four  passenj^ers  over  the  shallower  rapids.  A 
short  tramp  throuj^h  the  fonst  brouj^dit  us  before  sundown  to  our 
first  encampment  on  the  "lower  crossing;"  of  the  \\'asati(|uoik, 
twelve  miles  from  Sherman. 

Next  morninij;,  the  7th.  we  witnessed  thi;  construction,  in  two 
hours,  of  a  sled  or  "jumper,"  by  means  of  an  axe  and  a  two-inch 
auger.  At  ten  o'clock  the  bay^j.jaj.je  was  bound  to  two  jumjjers  and 
startetl  off  by  four  horses,  our  party  of  eleven,  on  foot,  forminif 
advance  and   rear  (guards.      So  we  tramped  over  hill  and  occasional 

swamp,  up  the  Wasatiipioik  valley, 
stoppinir  as  much  time;  as  inovinj^^ 
occasionally  holdinir  the  craft  from 
vT5  capsizin_L,s  and  pryin_i^  her  over 
fallen  trees,  stumps,  and  rocks. 
Much  of  the  surface  of  the  country 
A  ji'MPKH.  is  a  mass  of  g-ranite  bowlders  of 

5i\ 


8o6 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


:  i  y  I 


W 


iff 


I .: 


il:         U 


THE    MISSINO 


INK. 


every  size.  Where  disintejjratecl  .stone  and  vegetable  mold  have 
accumulated  for  ages,  the  road  is  practicable  for  wagons ;  but  on 
.slopes,  where  the  filling  has  washed  out,  it  is  amazing  to  see  a  horse 
get  over  it  at  all,  especially  when  he  has  to  drag  soft  wooden  sled- 
runners  over  the  .seriated  edges  of  big  stones. 

The  rest  of  the  road  presented  still  steeper  pitches,  deeper  bogs, 
and  more  entanglingly  strewn  rocks.  One  of  our  horses,  a  strag- 
gling, raw-boned  "missing  link,"  afforded  us  no  little  tugging  and 
plenty  of  amusement,  in  our  fruitless  efforts  to  keep  him  right  side 
up  and  his  various  members  comparatively  collected  together. 
Along  toward  evening  he  quite  abandoned  the  transportation  busi- 
ness, flinging  himself  in  wild  gymnastics,  and  finally  he  slid  off  the 
side  of  a  corduroy  and  sank  up  to  his  middle  in  the  muck.  .After 
we  had  tugged  at  him  for  half  an  hour,  during  which  time  he  main- 
tained a  strict  neutrality,  we  convinced  him,  by  means  of  a  birch 
rod,  that  he  must  take  a  hand  in  the  encounter,  whereupon  he 
roused  up  and  floundered  out.  We  waded  the  "upper  crossing"  of 
the  Wasatiquoik  at  dusk,  having  traveled  eight  miles ;  the  advance 
guard  had  already  prepared  a  camp. 

Ne.xt  morning  we  got  a  fair  start,  and  by  noon  had  made  the 
remaining  five  miles  to  Ktaadn  Lake,  which  we  should  have  done 
the  day  before.  After  we  had  pried  our  unfortunate  horse  out  of 
.several  holes  in  the  first  mile  of  road,  and  the  other  one  had  shown 


!• 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


807 


symptoms  of  collapse,  we  abandoned  the  jumper  and  sent  the  team 
hack.  Meanwhile,  one  horse  of  the  other  jumper  having^  distributed 
most  of  his  shoes  and  gone  out  of  service,  his  companion  dragged 
the  vehicle  alone  up  many  steep  pitches,  and  was  only  dismissed, 
with  our  blessing,  when  the  jumper  had  left  its  starboard  runner  on 
a  rock.  So  we  had  a  chance  to  find  out  how  wontlerfully  easier  it  is 
to  walk  light  over  bad  roads  than  to  lug  twent\-  pounds  of  l)aggage. 
The  guides  spent  the  afternoon  in  "backing  "in  our  wraps  and  a 
day's  provisions.  We  dined  by  the  dam  at  the  foot  of  the  little 
lake, — one  of  the  many  difficult  but  unremuiierative  works  built  a 
few  years  ago  to  "drive"  logs, — and  got  into  a  temporar\-  camp  for 
the  night. 

The  bean-hole,  that  principal  l)asc  in  camp  topography,  is  made 
large  enough  to  take  in  an  iron  pot ;  and  when  the  hole  is  heated  to 
a  cherry-red  by  a  big  internal  fire,  antl  when  the  pot  is  fillet!  with 
parboiled,  yellow-eyed  beans  and  a  cube  of  jjork  with  fat  and  lean  in 
proper  strata,  and  when  the  pot  is  set  in  the  hole  for  the  night  ami 
covered  with  coals,  then  begins  a  beneficent  tissue-making  alchemy 
which  transmutes  the  humbler  food  into  ambrosia  fit  for  Mount 
Ktaadn,  if  not  for  Mount  Olympus. 

The  fishing  along  shore  now  began  to  abound  chiefi)  in  chub, 
and  !')on  (iifaro,  the  epicure,  was  beginning  contemptuously  to  dub 
this  ever-ready-for-breakfast  fish  as  "  Ktaadn  trout,"  while  at  the 
same  time  Don  Clifaro,  the  sportsman,  was  silentlv  tletermining 
where  the  real  "fish"  lay.  All  in  gooil  time,  an  ancient  <ind  dilapi- 
tlated  raft  was  discovereil,  and  as  soon  mounted  by  the  I  )on,  1  )e 
\Vot)ds,  antl  La  Rose,  who  poled  and  paddled  it  with  no  em!  of  work 
to  the  previously  determined  spot.  After  an  hour's  fishing,  La  Rose's 
bare  hands  taking  the  place  of  a  landing-net,  they  returneil  laden 
with  trout:  seven  fish  weigluHl  o\er  ten  poimds,  and  one  was  a 
three-[)()under,  twenty  inches  long.  .Meanwhil<,,  a  guitle  hatl  shot  a 
brace  of  partridges,  and  our  style  of  fixing  was  rapidly  assuming  the 
Matlison  .Square  type.  1  give  all  concer-ied  the  benefit  of  two  expe- 
riences 1  ac(iuiri'd  this  tlay  :  first,  don'i  lay  a  trout  in  a  frying-pan 
of  red-hot  fat  with  your  fingers;  second,  when  you  do,  get  a  distin- 
guished artist  to  paint  them  with  while  lead  ami  turpentine ;  it 
|)rejudices  one  against  a  warm  tone  in  art,  though  the  ultimaie 
repose  of  the  composition  is  charming. 


h-  \ 


(!  ' 


''  i' 


8o8 


J  '1 


Catnps  and  Tmmps  About  Ktaadn. 


\\ . :. 


Hi 


\  ' 


*  \ 


KTAADN,     I'HOM    TlIK    SOUTH    SIIORK.    HI     Till;    l.AKi; 

The  mountain  was  now  i^rowing  in  our  siirht,  and  our  artists 
were  already  niakiny  finished  pencil  studies  and  catcliins;  the-  ever- 
chan_irin.<r  tints.  Few  views  of  mountains  in  any  country  exceed  that 
from  the  southern  shore  of  Lake  Ktaadn,  in  coml)inetl  grandeur  and 
beauty, — the  great  pyramid,  ten  miles  away  on  the  left,  ever  chang- 
ing in  the  varying  moisture  of  air  and  shadow  of  cloud,  brilliant  and 
rosy  in  early  sunshine  while  twilight  still  broods  over  the  valley ; 
each  rock-rib,  and  rift  searched  out  by  the  full  blaze  of  mid-day, 
opalescent  in  the  mistier  air  of  afternoon,  antl  then  a  harmonious  mass 
of  blended  purple  and  blue  outlined  against  the  sunset  and  mirrored 
in  the  lake ;  its  foreground  a  densely  woodetl  plain  of  dark  ever- 
greens, broktm  here  and  there  on  the  margin  by  tangled  underwood 
of  every  hue  of  green,  already  richly  flecked  with  autumnal  color. 
In  front,  on  the  near  opposite  shore,  abruptly  rises   Mount    rurner, 


if:r 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


809 


its  flanks  dense  with  primeval  hard-woods,  the  tureen  interspersed 
with  daily  deepening  red  and  yellow,  and  its  summit  a  thicket  of 
evergreens.  Twenty  miles  away  on  the  right,  and  most  beautiful  of 
all,  the  Traveler, — a  flattened  dome,  rising  higher  than  the  loftiest 
peak  of  the  Catskills,  grand  and  symmetrical  indeed,  but  lovely,  as  I 
see  it  far  away  in  the  soft,  rosy  sunset,  when  Ktaadn  has  put  on  the 
darker  robes  of  evening.  .Such  appears  to  be  the  view  from  our 
camp-shore  ;  but  as  I  look  over  my  shoulder  at  the  canvas  of 
my  companion,  I  'ealize  how  inadequately  it  can  be  describ(;d  in 
words. 

Our    life,    pleasant    as    was    its    routine    by  day,  was   not    mere 


f 


v^'^^' 


■'  ^*fr«e5<^«St^*«^^* 


N.-^. 


•^- 


Till-,    TKAVI-.I.I-.K,     l-ROM    TIIK    SOITII     SIlORl.    UK     lllK    1  \KI-: 


sketching,  fishing,  and  tramping.  The  evening  meal,  with  its  liberal 
fare  and  its  rousing  appetites,  its  jokes  and  its  relation  of  the  day's 
experiences,  and  then  the  lying  at  ease  before  the  glowing  camj)- 
fire,  with  its  pipes  and  punch  and  stories,  and  the  dro|)|jing  off  of 
one  and  another  in  sweet,  healthful  sleep,  without  the  formalit\-  of 
"retiring" — these  are  scenes  of  which  the  memories  will  last  like 
those  of  Ktaadn  itself 

On  the  bright,  clear  morning  of  the  141)1,  Don  Cathedra,  Rubens, 
and  De  Woods,  with  two  guides  bearing  supplies,  penetrated  the 
trackless  wilderness  of  Mount  Turner. — a  tangling  and  tlifficult 
progress  through  primeval  forests,  to  gain  what  the  Hon  had  imag- 
ined to  be  the  grandest  view  of  Ktaadn.  W'liile  the  rest  of  us  were 
consoling  ourselves  for  our  loneliness,  about  dark,  with  a  rice  pud- 
ding composed  of  two  raisins  to  one  grain  of  rice,  and  a  ravishing 
sauce, — a  thoughtful  study  by  La  Rose, — up  ro;ie  I)e  Woods  in  our 
midst,  pale  as  an  apparition.  Hi;  had  preceded  and  lost  his  pr.rty, 
ascended  a  peak  of  Turner,  and  being  without  provisions,  descended 


''M  i 


1  i 

1: 

8io 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


J> 


KTAADN     FROM    CREEK    AT    WEST     KNI)    01'    I.AKI 


after  four  o'clock  and  waded  a  mile  of  lake  to  escape  the  entangling 
thicket  of  the  margin. 

The  sunrise  of  the  next  day  was  like  opening  the  book  of  Reve- 
lations. While  everything  was  lying  asleep  in  misty  twilight,  sud- 
denly the  lurking  leaden  clouds  in  the  west  blushed  as  the  east  flung 
them  its  salute  across  the  sea,  and  wreathed  themselves  in  ros)-  gar- 
lands upon  the  brow  of  the  monarch.  And  tiien  the  monarch  awoke, 
and  rose  u|)  in  the  mirage,  and  bathed  himself  in  the  \ellow  light, 
till  his  crest  was  transmuted  into  gold,  and  his  breast  into  leagues  of 
pink  coral,  while  ever  ainbow  rolled  down  his  gorgeous 

flanks  as  morning  broke  i.pon  i.     plain. 

The  Mount  Turner  party  returned  ne.xt  day,  and  told  their  stories 
over  the  evening  camp-fire, — stories  of  hard  struggles  over  wind-falls 
and  through  tangled  underwood,  of  a  few  spoonfuls  of  water  apiece  on 
the  mountain  top,  and  of  compensation  for  their  troubles  in  the  rare 
beauty  of  a  primeval  forest, —  singular  growths,  dead  trunks  tumbled 
picture.squely  together  by  the  wind,  great  trees  wreathing  their  roots 
around  big  bowlders  cushioned  all  over  with  mosses,  and  little  rivu- 
lets running  out  below,  all  variegated  with  the  glistening  white  birch 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


WOOD    INTERIOR    ON    MillNT    Tl  RNKK. 


and  the  great  bronzed  and  man)-tinted  leaves  of  the  moose-wood. 
The  Don  pronounced  the  view  of  Ktaadn  "  grand,  but  not  pictorial." 
When  rallied  about  getting  lost,  1  )e  Woods  simply  told  the  story  of 
the  Indian  found  wandering  to  and  fro  in  the  wilderness,  against 
whom  a  similar  charge  was  made.  "  Lost !"  growled  he;  "Indian 
no  lost,  Indian  here  :  wigwam  lost." 

On  the  morning  of  the  i6th,  Don  Cathedra  and  I,  with  two 
guides,  started  toward  the  (ireat  Basin,  lying  in  the  mountain  in 
rear  of  the  pyramid.  Two  other  guides  had  preceded  us,  with  pro- 
visions for  the  whole  party  ;  they  were  to  return  the  same  day,  and 
to  go  up  with  the  others  in  the  morning.  I  started  earlier,  not 
expecting  to  be  able  to  make  the  whole  ten  tlifficult  miles  in  one 
day ;  but  after  various  halts,  we  reached  the  Basin  at  5  v.  M.  and 
pitched  our  camp.  Being  too  tired  to  sleep,  I  lay  for  hours  in  this 
solemn  amphitheater,  watching  the  moon-lit  clouds  drift  over  its 
ragged  summit,  but  not  yet  appreciating  its  vastness  ant'  its  awful 
grandeur,  for  the  night  was  singularly  mild,  and  there  was  no  sound 
but  the  soft  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  evergreens,  as  an  occasional 
current  circled  around  the  Basin.  1  was  yet  to  hear  the  .sounds  and 
see  the  sights  of  that  great  gulf 

The  first  half  of  our  journey  was  through  a  comparatively  level 
country,  over  the  remains  of  an  old  lumbering  road.  While  there 
was  much  good  walking,  there  were  occasional  swamps  over  which 
the  footing  of  stumps  and  slippery  logs  was  made  still  more  precari- 


:\^' 


812 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadii. 


ous  by  a  low  growth  of  shrubs  which  <iiiite  concealed  it.  Getting 
over  these  places  brought  a  stress  upon  the  temp(;r  as  well  as  upon 
muscle  and  nerve.  The  remainder  of  the  way  to  the  Hasin  was 
chiefly  a  line  of  spotted  trees,  which  gradually  led  up  the  lower  flanks 
of  the  mountain,  but  wound  in  detail  over  steep  jjilches  antl  through 
tangled  thickets.  There  were  occasional  "  wind-falls,"  which  were 
difificult  to  penetrate  or  to  get  around,  and  where  the  blazed  line  was 
easily  lost;  and  there  were  rocky  stream-l)eds  to  be  climbed  on  all 
fours.  A  point  two  miles  from  the  Hasin  reveals  a  magnificent  view, 
both  of  the  mountain  and  of  Ktaadn  Lake  and  its  surrounding  hills. 
Much  of  the  forest  has  been  harmed  by  neither  fire  nor  axe,  and  is 
full  of  beautiful  pictures. 

The  body  of  Ktaadn  extends,  in  bulk,  some  ten  miles  to  the  north 
of  the  pyramiil.  Its  east  side  is  gouged  out  in  two  enormous  chasms 
— the  Great  Hasin  and  the  North  Hasin,  the  depth  of  whicli  tloes  not 
appear  to  the  beholder  from  Ktaadn  Lake.  The  (ireat  Hasin  is 
a  horse-shoe  shaped  gorge,  some  three  miles  in  longest  diameter 
and  above  a  mile  deep.  Its  floor  is  a  plateau,  a  thousand  feet  above 
the  general  plain,  embracing  a  forest  and  a  little  lake.  Tlie  less 
precipitous  northern  lobe  is  divided  from  the  southern  by  a  "horse- 
back." The  southern  lobe  of  the  Great  Hasin,  not  visible  from 
Ktaadn  Lake,  is  an  amphitheater  a  mile  in  diameter.  Its  formation 
is  not  only  magnificent,  but  surprising,  in  that  it  occupies  the  whole 
interior  of  the  pyramid.  The  huge  head  of  Ktaadn  is  hollow,  but 
its  hollowness  only  adds  to  its  pictorial  eftect.  It  is  the  twofold 
wonder  of  our  eastern  scenery, — our  grandest  mountain  inclosing  our 
grandest  gorge, —  and  so  associating  in  one  harmonious  whole  the 
effects  of  .Sierra  peaks  with  those  of  Colorado  canons. 

.At  the  foot  of  our  camp  is  the  little  Hasin  Lake,  a  thousand  feet 
long  and  half  that  width, — cold,  clear,  and  azoic  as  the  granite  clifl's 
that  rise  out  of  its  shore.  Around  it  lie  drift  bowlders  of  (;very  age, 
and  huge  rocks,  split  from  the  mountain,  like  monolithic  houses 
tumbled  together  by  an  earthcjuake.  Over  the  smaller  debris  many- 
colored  foliage  creeps  up  into  the  rifts,  and  towering  above  and 
beyond  is  the  ragged  granite  precipice  half  a  mile  in  sheer  altitude. 
On  such  a  grand  scale  is  everything  here  that  distances  are  decep- 
tive. What  was  apparently  a  mere  belt  of  trees  on  the  opposite 
shore  is  a  forest  more  than  half  a  mile  deep,  through  which  we 
followed  up  a  picturesciue  stream-bed  to  the  foot  of  th(;  cliffs. 


if  ''i"';JI  ■ 


Camps  and  Tmnips  About  Ktaaihi. 


813 


1  i 
'  1 


Don  Cathedra  was  most  fortii 
natc  in  visitinj^r  tht;  (ii-(-at  liasin  on    \ 
this  s(;ventccMUh  chiy  of  ScptcMiibcr     iv>|' ' 
— <jni'  (lay  out  of  a  luinilrcxl.      It 
was  ijloriousK  hriirht,  and  \  ct  there      >-'  'I'^k^tf^'™'^ 
was  moisture  enouj^h   to  irive  the        V-^^  '"I  / 
most  charmintj  atmospheric  effects. 
The   Don  made  many  stiuHes,  and 
worked  dihirentK  all  day  with  pen- 
cil  and   brush,  catchinj^-  the  effects 
of  golden  and   roststinted  rocks  at 
sunrise,    tin;   yellow   foliaj^e  crt;ep- 
injj;-  up  the  dark   purple  ledj^es  on 
the  shaded  side   of  the  ravine,  the  ^  ^"^^  '"^  ""   '•"'•^'  "^^'■^■ 

dim  line  in  the  atmosphere  between  the  li^ht  and  the  shadow 
falling-  diajronally  down  th('  eastern  cliff,  the  wild  and  raj4j,feil  sliiles 
ami  stream-bi'tls  on  die  illuminated  west  s]()|)e,  the  picturescpie  forc;- 
j^round  of  autumn-tinted  hard-woods  anil  dark  everj^reens  reflected 
in  the  lake —  that  wonderful  association  of  i^randeur  in  mass,  with 
exquisite  beauty  in  detail,  such  as  one  can  rarely  see  amon^  all  our 


ffi 

>■  1 

:  «<■■ 


814 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


"    if: 

■f; 

'I, 
!' 


:    .11: 


Appalachian  mountains.  In  the  midst  of  our  musings,  suddenly  an 
avalanche  came  tearing  down  the  precipice — enormous  rocks  bound- 
ing from  ledge  to  ledge,  bursting  and  scattering  as  they  struck, 
throwing  out  white  clouds  like  cannon  smoke,  and  finally  lost  in 
the  crashing  forest  below.  The  long  time  occupied  in  the  descent 
gave  evidence  of  the  enormous  height  of  the  precipice. 

But  the  afternoon  brought  a  rapid  change  of  scene.  As  the 
party  from  Lake  Ktaadn  came  straggling  in,  a  storm — which  can 
be  so  quickly  brewed  on  a  mountain-top — had  no  sooner  thrown 
its  shadow  upon  us  than  its  substance  followed  in  wind  and  rain, 
driving  us  into  the  little  temporary  tent  while  the  guides  were 
preparing  a  better  one.  During  the  intervals  in  the  storm,  our 
united  exertions  re.'-ulted,  before  dark,  in  a  logged  tent,  well 
shielded  and  floored  with  boughs.  VV^e  supped,  and  packed  our 
supplies  and  ourselves  into  night-quarters  during  a  drizzling  rain, 
choked  and  blinded  every  few  minutes  by  clouds  of  smoke,  which 
the  eddying  wind  flung  in  every  direction,  and  secretly  brooding, 
every  one,  over  the  probability  that  the  equinoctial  had  caught  us 
in  that  meteorological  whirlpool,  Ktaadn  Basin. 

At  midnight,  Pomola,  the  deity  of  this  domain,  who  had  so 
sweetly  beguiled  us  into  his  den,  gave  us  a  taste  of  his  wrath.  Being 
at  the  tempestuous  corner  of  the  tent,  I  was  roused  from  my  dreams 
by  a  ripping  and  a  snapping  of  things  in  general,  and  awoke  to  find 
the  roof  gone,  the  protecting  boughs  blown  over,  a  torrent  of  rain 
pouring  upon  us,  and  the  last  embers  of  the  camp-fire  nearly  extin- 
guished. The  guides'  tent  had  quite  disappeared  in  the  gust. 
But  before  the  general  eye  had  perceived  the  situation,  the 
ever-ready  John  had  pi;lled  back  and  fastened  down  our  flapping 
roof,  and  given  an  impetus  to  the  fire.  Then  there  was  a  general 
re-adjustment  in  the  tent ;  the  edges  of  underlying  rubber  cloths 
were  propped  up  so  that  water  would  not  run  in,  and  overlying  wraps 
were  ridged  so  that  rain  would  run  off.  .Always  excepting  that  old 
campaigner,  Don  Gifaro — he  wasted  no  time  by  waking  up  and  fool- 
ing around  in  the  dark.  1  got  hold  of  the  tea,  and  slept  with  it  the 
rest  of  the  night  under  my  water- proofs,  and  somebody  else  did  the 
same  with  the  sugar. 

Ascending  the  mountain  was  the  prescribed  work  of  the  next 
day,  and  we  made  an  early  start.     It  .soon  became  so  warm  that  we 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadu. 


815 


KAST    BRANCH    OK    THE    I'ENOBSCOT. 


Strapped  our  coats  and  waistcoats  about  our  waists  (the  best  way  to 
carry  weight,  as  John  Gilpin  knew),  and  scrambled  up  a  dry  stream - 
bed,  over  every  form  and  size  of  rocky  impediment,  till  we  reached 
a  "slide,"  which  I  supposed  might  conform  to  the  angle  of  repose; 
but  the  unscientific  way  in  which  Ktaadn  rocks  will  arrange  them- 
selves, overhanging  rather  than  receding.  I  leave  succeeding  tramps 
to  account  for.  It  was  a  hard  and  exhausting  scale,  but  by  no  means 
a  harmful  one,  when  there  were  plenty  of  rests.  We  ascended  a 
slide  in  the  north  lobe  of  the  Great  Basin,  —  the  lowest  part  of  the 
mountain,  and  yet  so  high  that  lichens  were  the  largest  growths, — 
and  there  we  found  what  is  called  the  table-land,  but  which  is,  in 
fact,  a  gradual  slope  toward  the  west.  Here  Don  Cathedra  and  his 
guide  left  us  to  explore  the  comparatively  undiscovered  North  Basin, 
and  we  proceeded  up  a  gradual  but  rugged  incline,  now  through 
entangling  shrubs,  now  over  patches  of  huge  rocks  tumbled  to- 
gether, until  we  at  last  reached  the  summit  of  Ktaadn. 

I  have  seen  many  stretches  of  splendid  landscape  from  many 
mountain  tops,  but  to  my  thinking  the  view  from  the  top  of  Ktaadn 
is  the  most  remarkable  and  the  most  beautiful  I  have  ever  seen.  It 
was,  on  this  peculiarly  bright  day,  a  panorama  of  exceeding  splendor. 
The  groundwork  of  the  whole  visible  landscape  is  a  vast  wooded 
plain,  broken  in  the  rear  of  Ktaadn  by  a  few  bold  and  picturesque 


1 


8i6 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn, 


ii.  r 


:ix\ 


f     .  : 


hills,  bounded  on  the  south-western  horizon  by  the  },'rand  group  of 
the  White  Mountains,  and  interspersed  everywhere  with  innumerable 
shininj^  lakes — Moosehcad  in  the  far  distance,  Chesuncook,  a  river 
expansion,  Millinocket  with  its  hundred  islands ;  and  on  the  other 
side,  our  own  little  Ktaadn  Lake,  and  Mount  Turner  and  the  Traveler 
lookinj^  so  small  from  our  towering  height. 

The  night  of  the  20th  was  a  memorable  one.  Don  Gifaro, 
Rubens,  and  De  Woods  were  to  leave  us  next  morning,  and  we 
sat  up  talking  over  our  adventures,  and  promising  ourselves  many 
happy  returns,  till  the  unprecedentedly  late  hour  of  ten  o'clock. 

The  remaining  days  of  our  camping,  although  we  could  not  get 
used  to  the  vacant  seats,  were  full  of  pleasant  incidents.  La  Rose 
kept  our  table  loaded  with  splendid  rish,  and  Don  Cathedra  and  I 
.sketched  from  morning  till  night,  producing  some  of  our  finest  studies. 
The  Don  manipulated  the  brush  and  the  palette,  to  be  sure,  bui  as  1 
held  the  umbrella  and  generally  supervised  the  work,  I  feel  justified 
in  the  foregoing  use  of  the  pronoun.  The  aspects  of  the  mountain 
were  now  surprisingly  various  and  beautiful.  Our  e(|uinoctial  storm 
was  chiefly  a  wind  storm.  One  day  it  drove  the  (ireat  Basin  all  full 
of  clouds,  and  they  poured  out  of  the  apex  like  steam  out  of  a  vol- 
cano ;  and  when  they  were  luridly  lighted  by  the  setting  sun,  the 
scene  was  extremely  wild  and  gorgeous. 

And  so,  day  after  day,  the  mountain  and  the  forest  grew  more 
beautiful.  But  the  end  must  come;  and  on  the  25th,  with  great 
reluctance,  we  broke  camp  and  started  back  to  Sherman  en  route  for 
home. 

Our  supplies  for  i  i  men  (6  excursionists  and  5  guides)  16  days, 
and  5  men  5  days,=  1  man,  201  days,  were: 


l\  '     l"! 


U,'       i' 


!  i    i 


Mess  pork 115  ])oiin(ls  . 

Hard  bread     .    .    . 

Crackers 

.Sugar  (granulated)  . 
Wheat  flour  .  .  . 
Indian  meal     .    .    . 

Beans 65 

Potatoes 180 

Ham 15 

Onions 10 


80 
16 
80 
70 

25 


.  Rice 5  jjounds. 

.  Butter 5  '• 

.  Raisins 5  •' 

.  Bread  ])owders 3  ■' 

.  Tea 9  " 

.  Canned  meat 7 

.  Lemons 8 

.  Sundry  preserves,  etc  ....  5  " 

.  Fish,  mostly  trout  (estimated)  .100  " 

.  (lame 10 


Total       813  pounds. 


i 


A 


Camps  (1)1  (f  Tramps  About  Ktaailn. 


817 


This  yivcs,  say,  four  pounds  of  raw  food  per  day  per  man. 
There  was,  of  course,  a  large  percentage  of  waste  in  Its  prepara- 
tion and  in  its  transportation  from  camp  to  camp.  The  cost  of 
this  raw  food  (exchiding,  of  course,  fish,  game,  and  transportation) 
was  si.xty-five  dollars,  or  thirty-two  and  one-third  cents  per  man 
per  day.  Our  bill  of  fare  has  included  the  obvious  simple  and  the 
following  compound  dishes : 

Crackers,  dampened  and  fried  in  pork  fat,  with  onions  (bisque 
a  la  Ilex);  fried  cakes,  of  various  mi.vtures  of  wheat  and  corn 
meal;  Indian  plum-pudding  (caiulieniar) ;  rice-pudding,  with  rais- 
ins; raisin-pudding,  with  rice  (cx-cathcdra ) ;  baked  pork  and 
beans  ;  canned  meats  warmed  up  with  potatoes  and  cracker  cruml)s; 
eel-pie  ;  partridge-soup  and  stew ;  duck-stew,  and  sauces  of  sugar, 
butter,  and  rum.  As  the  guides  were  so  constantly  employed  in 
arranging  new  camps  and  transporting  supplies,  they  had  no  time 
to  seek  large  game,  although  we  saw  both  moose  and  caribou. 

The  necessary  camp  utensils  (some  of  which  most  guides  have 
on  hand)  for  our  number  and  our  style  of  living  are  :  An  iron 
pot  with  overlapping  cover,  a  tin  tea-pot,  two  frying-pans,  four  tin 
pails,  two  of  them  having  covers  and  removable  wire  U;gs  (par- 
boiling vessels),  the  whole  to  pack  in  a  nest ;  a  nest  of  four  deep 
tin  dishes  or  pans,  the  largest  fifteen  inches  and  the  smallest  ten 
inches  in  diameter,  to  be  used  as  mi.xing  vessels  and  platters ;  a 
tin  baker,  say  16  x  12x7  inches;  a  dozen  of  each  of  the  follow- 
ing: tin  pint  cups,  tin  dinner  plates,  and  cheap  tea-spoons,  knives 
and  forks  ;  three  larger  cooking  spoons  of  different  sizes,  two  l:)utcher- 
knives,  two  tin  wash-basins,  a  salt-box,  a  pepper-box,  and  a  wire  grid- 
iron. We  did  not  have  a  camp-stove,  which  would  have  been  a  great 
convenience.  The  half  of  a  stout  barrel  is  good  to  keep  pork  in,  and 
will  also  hold  fish,  game,  etc..  in  separate  birch-bark  vessels.  A 
birch-bark  lined  hole  in  the  earth  is  a  good  store-room  for  meat. 
There  should  be  plenty  of  dish-cloths  and  towels,  and  five  pounds  of 
bar  soap.  A  can  of  kerosene  and  a  student-lamp  may  be  readily 
taken ;  a  dozen  candles  are  convenient,  although  the  camp-fire  fur- 
nishes the  necessary  illumination.  No  work  nor  amusement  recpiir- 
ing  a  good  light  is  attempted  after  dark.  The  matches  should  be 
distributed  among  the  party,  and  each  person  should  carry  a  few  in 
a  corked  metal  case.  Some  nails  and  tacks  of  assorted  sizes  jjrove 
52 


\ 


8i8 


Camps  and  Tmmps  About  Ktaadn 


KTAADN    I.AKK     I'KOM    TIIK    SI.IUK    IN    THK    llASIN. 


4'.   ^ 


surprisingly  useful.  VVc  brouj^ht  in  cheap 
crockery  plates,  mugs,  cups  and  saucers, 
and  left  them.  The  guiiles  will,  of  course, 
have  plenty  of  axes  and  guns.  A  one- 
and-a-half  inch  auger  and  a  draw-shave 
are  often  very  useful.  A  shovel  is  con- 
venient, but  not  indispensable.  The  ])ro- 
visions  and  utensils  are  most  conveniently 
transported  in  bags. 
It  is  a  great  mistake  to  take  other  than  stout  clothing.  Adapta- 
tion of  clothing  to  the  great  variations  of  temperature  may  be 
readily  made  by  "doubling  up."  The  rubber  cloth  should  be 
permanentl)'  lined  with  the  half  of  one  blanket  to  lie  on,  the 
other  half  of  the  blanket  and  the  sides  of  the  rubber  cloth  form- 
ing a  cover.  The  foot  of  this  bed  should  be  made,  by  means  of 
straps  and  buckles,  into  a  bag,  so  that  the  occupant  may  roll 
about,  bed  and  all,  without  pulling  the  clothes  off  or  getting  thrm 
wet  when   it    rains.     This    bag  of  bedding,   rolled    iiuu  imdU 

forms  its  own  water-proof  case.  The  clothir  i  ransported  in  a 
rubber  bag,  made  like  a  mail -bag,  and  ha'  ,   inside  flap      To 

this  outfit  each  person  will  add  the  implem  of  his  speciah  » .  A 
few  quires  of  heavy  paper,  both  for  wrappiu.  and  lor  preserving 
leaves,  are  of  use  to  all.     Pencils,  pocket-knives,  an      uch  indispen- 


lll-i'i 


T 


Camps  and  Tramps  About  Ktaadn. 


819 


sal)les,  sliouUI  Ik;  taken  in  duplicate.  C'liinhinj^  tnoiintains  and  liini- 
blinj^j  throu^di  thickets  is  pocket-pickin^f  hiislni-ss.  Tlie  party  siioiilil 
have  a  j^ootl  tleUl-^kiss,  an  aneroid  barometer  tor  nieasurin^^  iieij^hts, 
and  a  pocket-romjjass. 

The  cost  of  the  expedition  (sixteen  days  in  the  woods)  to  each 
<.'Xcursionist  was  $So,S^^. 

The  railway  transportation  was  47  per  cent,  of  the  whole 
expense.  'I'iie  distance  from  New  \'t)rk  to  Ktaadn  by  our  route 
is  exactly  600  miles. 


II' 


now    I     KIMJ'I)    A    MliAK. 


Itv  CIIAKI.KS   DUDLKY   WAKNKk, 


MTIIiiH    or    "MY    M  MMIK    IN    A    (;\HI>I;N,         'IN     llll.    W  ll.l  IHHN  l-'.S,       "  IIAIII  ll;<  K,       I',  l< '. 


i|5 


i  !■ 


'  il 

a;* 


,^-lt 


9 


So   many  n)ii(lict.iii^   accounts  liav<;  apix-arc^l  about  my  casual 
encounter  with  an  Adirondack  Ixuir  last  suiiinn:r,  that  injustice 
to  the  |)ul)nc,  to  in\  si^li,  and  to  ihr  l)ear,  it  is  necessary  to  makt: 
a  plain  statement  of  tiie  facts,      liesides,  it  is  so  seldom  I  have  occa 
sion  lo  kill  a  bear  that  tin-  ci:lel)ration  oi  me  exploit  may  be  excused. 

The  encounter  was  unpreme'ditateil  on  both  sides.  I  was  not 
hunting  f(»r  a  bear,  and  I  have  no  rea^H)n  to  suppose  that  a  bear  was 
looking  for  me.  Tlu'  fact  is  that  we  wvrv.  both  out  blackber'-yinir, 
anil  ini.'t  by  chance, — the  u.-.ual  way.  ihere  is  amon^  the  .'Xdirondack 
visitors  always  a  ^reat  deal  ol"  convirsiation  about  bears, — a  ^(Mieral 
expression  of  the  wish  to  see  ont^  in  the  woods,  and  much  speculation 
as  to  how  a  person  wouUl  act  if  lu;  or  she  chanced  to  meet  one.  liut 
bears  are  .scarce  and  timid  and  appear  only  to  a  favored  few. 

It  was  a  warm  day  in  Auj^ust,  just  thi'  si,rt  of  day  when  an 
aiiventure  of  any  kind  seemed  impossible.  Hut  it  occurred  to  the 
housctkeepers  at  our  cottajre  —  there  wen;  four  of  them  —  to  send  me 
to  tht-  clearing-,  on  the  mountain  back  of  the  hou.se,  to  |)i';k  black- 
berriifs.  It  .vas  rather  a  series  of  small  clearin.fs,  runninj^  up  into 
the  forest,  much  over<;rown  with  bushes  and  brier.i,  and  notunronian- 
tic.  Cows  pastured  there,  penetrating^  throuy^h  the  leafy  passages 
from  one  opening-  to  an«»ther,  and  browsinjjf  amonj>  the  bushes.  I  was 
kiniUy  furnislunl  with  a  lix-cpiart  pail,  and  told  no'^^  to  be  jrone  loni^-. 

Not  from  any  i)ri'datory  instinct,  but  to  save  ap|,'earances,  I  took 
a  ^un.  It  adds  to  the  manly  aspi-ct  of  a  ])er.son  wit'.j  a  tin  pail  if  he 
also  carries  a  j^im.  It  w."s  possii)ie  1  m!!L,''ht  start  up  a  parlridj^e ; 
thou<;h  how  I  was  to  1  it  nim,  if  he  started   ii|>  instead  of  stamling 


How  I  Killci'l  a  l^cay. 


821 


still,  puzzled  inc.  Many  people  use;  a  shol-^ain  for  partridj^es.  I 
pr(;l(;r  the  rifle:  it  makes  a  clt;an  jo|j  oftleatli,  and  do(!S  not  prema- 
turely stuff  the  l)ird  with  j^lohules  of  lead.  'I'he  rifle  was  a  Sharp's,' 
carryinj,^  a  hall-cartridj^^e  (ten  to  the  pound),  an  excellent  weapon 
Ixlon^injr  to  a  friend  of  mine,  who  had  intend»;<l,  for  a  j^ood  many 
y(;ars  hack,  to  kill  a  de<;r  with  it.  lie  could  hit  a  lre(;  with  it  —  if  the 
wind  did  not  blow,  and  the  atmosphere  was  just  rij^ht,  an<l  the  tree 
was  not  too  far  off — nearly  itvery  lime.  Of  course,  the  tree  must 
have;  souk;  size.  Ne(!dl(!ss  to  say  that  I  was  at  that  time  no  sports- 
man. Years  aj^o,  I  killed  a  rohin  under  the  most  humiliating^  cir- 
cumstances. 'I'Ik;  l)ird  was  in  a  low  cherry-tre(!.  I  loaded  a  bijf 
shot-jrun  pretty  fidl,  crept  up  under  the  tree,  resKrd  the  j^un  on  the 
fence;,  with  th<;  muzzle  more  than  ten  f(;et  from  the  l^irtl,  shut  hoth 
eyes,  and  pulled  the  trijrj^n^r.  When  I  ;;()t  u|)  to  set;  what  had  hap- 
p(  iuhI,  the  rohin  was  scattert-d  about  under  tin;  tree  in  more;  than  a 
thousand  pieces,  no  one  of  which  was  bij^  enou^di  to  enable  a  natu- 
ralist to  decitle  from  it  to  what  species  it  l)elonjf(;d.  'Ihis  disjrustetl 
me  with  the  life  of  a  sportsman.  I  mention  th<:  incident  to  show 
that,  althoujjjh  I  went  blackb(;rryin^  armed,  there  was  not  much 
inecjuality  b(;twe(;n  me  and  the  bear. 

In  this  blackberry-patch  bears  had  been  seen.  The  summer 
l)efore,  <jur  coloreil  cook,  accompanied  by  a  little  ^irl  of  the  vicina}.(e, 
was  picking  b(,'rri(;s  there  one  day,  when  a  bear  came  out  of  the 
woods  and  walk(;d  toward  them.  Ilu;  j^drl  took  t(j  her  heels 
and  escaped.  Aunl  C'hlo*;  was  paralyz(;tl  with  terror.  Insteach  of 
attemplini;  to  run,  sIk;  sal  down  on  the  ).^round  where  she  was  stand- 
ipt(,  and  Itej^an  to  w(;ep  and  scr(;am,  t^dvin^  hers(;lf  up  f(jr  lost.  The 
bear  was  bewildenu!  by  this  conduct,  lie  ap|)roac:hetl  and  hjoked  at 
her;  he;  w.ilked  aroimd  and  surve\<:d  her.  Probably  Ik;  had  nev(;r 
seen  a  colored  jx^rson  b(;fore,  and  did  not  know  \vh(;ther  she  would 
aj^-ree  with  iiim  ;  at  ^tny  laLe,  aft(;r  watchinj^'  her  a  few  mom(;nts,  he 
turned  about  and  went  into  tin;  forest.  This  is  an  ;iuthentic  instance 
of  the  d(;licate  consid(tration  of  a  Ix-ar,  and  i'^  much  more  remarkable 
than  tlu;  forbearance  toward  tin;  African  slave;  of  the  well-known 
lion,  becausi;  tin;  bc;ar  had  no  thorn  in  his  foot. 

When  I  had  climbed  tin;  iiill,  I  set  ujj  m\-  rilli;  aj^^ainst  a  tree;,  and 
bejran  pickint,'-  berries,  lured  on  fror.i  luish  to  bush  by  the  Idack 
gleam  of  fruit  (that  always  pnjmises  more  in   iIk;  distance;  than  it 


u 

'   3' 
I    i 


822 


How  I  Killed  a  Bear. 


,1  ! 


realizes  when  you  reach  it),  penetrating  farther  and  farther,  through 
leaf-shaded  cow-paths  flecked  with  sunlight,  into  clearing  after  clear- 
ing. I  could  hear  on  all  sides  the  tinkle  of  bells,  the  cracking  of 
sticks,  and  the  stamping  of  cattle  that  were  taking  refuge  in  the 
thicket  from  the  flies.  Occasionally,  as  I  broke  througli  a  covert,  I 
encountered  a  meek  cow,  who  stared  at  me  stupidly  for  a  second  and 
then  shambled  off  into  the  brush.  I  became  accustomed  to  this  dumb 
society,  and  picked  on  in  silence,  attributing  all  the  wood-noises  to 
the  cattle,  thinking  nothing  of  any  real  bear.  In  point  of  fact,  how- 
ever, I  was  thinking  all  the  time  of  a  nice  romantic  bear,  and,  as  I 
picketl,  was  composing  a  story  about  a  generous  she-bear  who  had 
lost  her  cub,  and  who  seized  a  small  girl  in  this  very  wood,  carried 
her  tenderly  off  to  a  r-ave,  and  brought  lu;r  up  on  bear's  milk  and 
honey.  When  the  girl  got  big  enough  to  run  away,  moved  by  her 
inherited  instincts,  she  escaped,  and  came  into  the  valley  to  her 
father's  house  (this  part  of  the  story  was  to  be;  worked  out,  so  that 
the  child  would  know  her  father  by  some  family  resemblance,  and 
have  some  language  in  which  to  address  him),  and  told  him  where 
the  bear  lived.  The  father  took  his  gun,  and,  guiiled  ])y  the  unfeeling 
daughter,  went  into  the  woods  and  shot  the  bear,  who  never  matle 
any  resistance,  and  only,  when  dying,  turned  reproachful  e\es  upon 
her  murderer.  The  moral  of  the  tale  was  to  be  kindness  to  animals. 
1  was  in  the  midst  of  this  tale,  when  I  happened  to  look  some 
rods  away  to  the  other  edge  of  the  clearing,  and  there  was  a  bear ! 
He  was  standing  on  his  hind-legs,  and  doing  just  what  I  was  doing, 
—  picking  blackberries.  With  one  paw  he  bent  down  the  bush, 
while  with  the  other  he  clawed  the  berries  into  his  mouth, — green 
ones  and  all.  To  say  that  I  was  astonished  is  inside  the  mark.  I 
suddenly  discovered  that  I  tlidn't  want  to  see  a  bear,  after  all.  .At 
about  the  same  moment,  the  bear  saw  me,  stopped  eating  berries, 
anc'  regarded  me  with  a  glad  surprise.  It  is  all  very  well  to  imagine 
what  you  would  do  under  such  circumstances.  Probably  you 
would'nt  do  it :  I  didn't.  The  bear  dropped  down  on  his  fore- 
f(;et  and  came  slowly  toward  me.  Climbing  a  tree  was  of  no  use, 
with  so  good  a  climber  in  the  rear.  If  I  started  to  run,  I  had 
no  doubt  the  bear  wouUl  give  chase  ;  and  although  a  bear  cannot 
run  down-hill  as  fast  as  he  can  run  up-hill,  yet  I  felt  that  he  could 
get  over  this  rough,  brush-tangled  ground  faster  than  I  could. 


♦, 


Hmo  I  Killcii  a  I^car. 


823 


The  bear  was  approacliiiij^.  It  sudtleiiiy  occuitihI  to  me  Iiow  I 
could  divert  his  iniiul  until  1  could  fall  i)ack  upon  ui\'  military  base. 
My  pail  was  nearly  full  of  excellent  berries,— much  better  than  the;  bear 
coiild  pick  himself  I  p-ut  the  pail  on  the  ground,  ami  slowly  backed 
away  from  it,  keepins.,^  mj-  eye.  as  beast-tamers  ilo.  on  the  bear.  Tiie 
ruse  succeeded. 

The  bear  came  up  to  the  berries  aiul  stopped.      Not  accustomed 
to  eat  out  of  a  pail,  he  tipped  it  over,  and  nosed  about  in  the  fruit, 
"  u-ormino"  (if  there  is  such  a  word)  it  tlown,  mi.xeil  with  leaves  and 
dn-t,  liki;  a  pi<,r.    The  i)ear  is  a  worse  feedc;r  than  the  pi^-.    Whenever 
he  disturbs  a  maple-su<i;ar  camp  in  the  sprini,r,  he  always  upsets  die 
buckets  of  syrup,  and  tramples  arounil  in  tiie  sticky  sweets,  wastincr 
more  than  he  eats,   '{"he  bear's  manners  are  thorouj^hl)'  disa.^-reeable. 
As  soon  as  my  enemy's  head  was  ilown.  1  started  and  ran.    .Some- 
what out  of  breath,  and  shak)-,  I  reached   m\-  faithful  rifle.      It  was 
not  a  moment  too  soon.      1    heartl   the  b(;ar  crashing-  dirouoh  the 
brush  after  me.      luira.i^^ed  at  my  duplicity,  he  was  now  comhiu-  on 
with   blooti   ;.i   his  eye.      I  felt  that   the   time  of  one  of  us  was  prob- 
ably short.      'I"he  rapidity  of  thouirht  at  such  moments  of  peril  is 
well    known.      I   thought  an  octavo  volume,    had  it  illustrated   and 
published,    soUl  fifty   thousand   copies,  and  went    to   luu'ope  on  the 
proceeds,    while   that    bear  was    lo[)ing    across  the  clearing.      ..\s  1 
was  cocking  the  gun,  I  made  a  hasty  and  unsatisfactory  review  of  my 
whole  life.    I  notetl  that  even  in  such  a  compulsory  review,  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  think  of  any  good  thing  you  have  done;.   The  sins  come 
out  uncommonly  strong.    1  recollected  a  newspaper  subscription  I  had 
delayetl  pa)ing  years  and  years  ago,  until  both  editor  and  newspaper 
were  dead,  and  which  now  never  could  be  paid  to  all  eternity. 
The  Iiear  was  coming  on. 

I  trietl  to  remember  what  I  had  read  about  encounters  with 
bears.  I  couldn't  recall  an  instance  in  Avhich  a  man  had  run  away 
from  a  bear  in  the  woods  ami  escaped,  although  I  recalled  plenty 
where;  the  bear  had  run  from  the  man  and  got  off  i  tried  to  think 
what  is  the  best  way  to  kill  a  bear  with  a  gun.  when  you  are  not 
near  enough  to  club  him  with  the  stock.  My  first  thought  was  to 
fire  at  his  head:  to  plant  the  ball  between  his  eyes;  but  this  is  a 
dangerous  experiment.  The  bear's  brain  is  very  small ;  and,  unless 
you  hit  that,  the  bear  does  not  mind  a  bullet  in  his  heiid ;  that  is,  not 


m 


824 


How  I  Killed  a  Bear. 


at  the  time.  I  remembered  that  the  instant  death  of  the  bear  would 
follow  a  bullet  planted  just  back  of  his  fore-leg  and  sent  into  his  heart. 
This  spot  is  also  difficult  to  reach,  unless  the  bear  stands  off,  side  toward 
you,  like  a  target.     I  finally  determined  to  fire  at  him  generally. 

The  bear  was  coming  on. 

The  contest  seemed  to  me  very  different  from  anything  at  Creed- 
moor,  I  had  carefully  read  the  reports  of  the  shooting  there ;  but  it 
was  not  easy  to  apply  the  experience  I  had  thus  acquired.  I  hesi- 
tated whether  I  had  better  fire  lying  on  my  stomach  or  lying  on  my 
back  and  resting  the  gun  on  my  toes.  But  in  neither  position,  I 
reflected,  could  I  see  the  bear  until  he  was  upon  me.  The  range  was 
too  short,  and  the  bear  wouldn't  wait  for  me  to  examine  the  ther- 
mometer, and  note  the  direction  of  the  wind.  Trial  of  the  Creed- 
moor  method,  therefore,  had  to  be  abandoned,  and  I  bitterly  regretted 
that  I  had  not  read  more  accounts  of  off-hand  shooting. 

For  the  bear  was  coming  on. 

I  tried  to  fix  my  last  thoughts  upon  my  family.  As  my  family  is 
small  this  was  not  difficult.  Dread  of  displeasing  my  wife  or  hurting 
her  feelings  was  uppermost  in  my  mind.  What  would  be  her 
anxiety  as  hour  after  hour  passed  on,  and  I  did  not  return  ?  What 
would  the  rest  of  the  household  think,  as  the  afternoon  passed  and 
no  blackberries  came  ?  What  would  be  my  wife's  mortification  when 
the  news  was  brought  that  her  husband  had  been  eaten  by  a  bear  ? 
I  cannot  imagine  anything  more  ignominious  than  to  have  a  hus- 
band eaten  by  a  bear.  And  this  was  not  my  only  anxiety.  The 
mind  at  such  times  is  not  under  control.  With  the  gravest  fears 
the  most  whimsical  ideas  will  occur.  I  looked  beyond  the  mourn- 
ing friends,  and  thought  what  kind  of  an  epitaph  they  would  be 
compelled  to  put  upon  the  stone.      Something  like  this : 

Here  Lie   ihe  Remains 


Eaten  hv  a  Hear, 
.Vuc.  20.  1877. 

It  is  a  vei\  unheroic  and  even  disagreeable  epitaph.  That 
"  eaten  by  a  bear "  is  intolerable.  It  is  grotesque.  And  then  I 
thought  what  an  inadequate  language  the  English  is  for  compact 
expression.  It  would  not  answer  to  put  upon  the  stone  simply 
"eaten";   for  that  is  indefinite,  and  retjuires  explanation;  it  might 


How  I  Killed  a  Bear. 


825 


mean  eaten  by  a  cannibal.  This  difficulty  could  not  occur  in  the 
German,  where  csscn  signifies  the  act  of  feeding  by  a  man,  7m6.  frcssen 
by  a  beast.      How  simple  the  thing  would  be  in  German : 

»  HiKR    LlEGT 

HOCHWOHLCEBORF.N 
HliRR 

Gefressen, 
Aug.  20,  1877. 

That  explains  itself  The  well-born  one  was  eaten  by  a  beast, 
and  presumably  by  a  bear, — an  animal  that  has  a  bad  reputation 
since  the  days  of  Elisha. 

The  bear  was  coming  on  ;  he  had,  in  fact,  come  on.  I  judged 
that  he  could  see  the  whites  of  my  eyes.  All  my  subsequent  reflec- 
tions were  confused.  I  raised  the  gun,  covered  the  bear's  breast  with 
the  sight,  and  let  drive.  Then  I  turned,  and  ran  like  a  deer.  1  did 
not  hear  the  bear  pursuing.  I  looked  back.  The  bear  had  stopped. 
He  was  lying  down.  I  then  remembered  that  the  best  thing  to  do 
after  having  fired  your  gun  is  to  reload  it.  I  slipped  in  a  charge, 
keeping  my  eyes  on  the  bear.  He  never  stirred.  I  walked  back  sus- 
piciously. There  was  a  quiver  in  the  hind  legs,  but  no  other  motion. 
Still,  he  might  be  shamming  ;  bears  often  sham.  To  make  sure,  I 
approached  and  put  a  ball  into  his  head.  He  didn't  mind  it  now; 
he  minded  nothing.  Death  had  come  to  him  with  a  merciful  sud- 
denness. He  was  calm  in  death.  In  order  that  he  might  remain  so,  I 
blew  his  brains  out.  and  then  started  for  home.     I  had  killed  a  bear ! 

Notwithstanding  my  excitement,  I  managed  to  saunter  into  the 
house  with  an  unconcerned  air.     There  was  a  chorus  of  voices  : 

"Where  are  your  blackberries?" 

"  Why  were  you  gone  so  long.^" 

"Where's  your  pail?" 

"  I  left  the  pail." 

"Left  the  pail!    What  for?" 

"A  bear  wanted  it." 

"  Oh,  nonsense !" 

"Well,  the  last  I  saw  of  it  a  bear  had  it." 

"Oh,  come!  you  really  didn't  see  a  bear?" 

"Yes,  but  I  did  really  see  a  real  bear," 

"Did  he  run?" 

"  Yes  ;  he  ran  after  me." 


ii  1' 


826 


How  I  Killed  a  Bear. 


f   I 


"  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.     Wiiat  did  you  do?"  ' 

"  Oh,  nothing  particular — except  kill  the  bear." 

Cries  of  "  Gammon  !  "     "  Don't  believe  it !" 

"  Where's  the  bear?  ' 

"  If  you  want  to  see  the  bear  you  must  j^o  up  into  the  woods.  I 
couldn't  briny  him  down  alone." 

Having  satisfied  the  household  that  something  extraordinary  had 
occurred,  and  excited  the  posthumous  fear  of  some  of  them  for  my 
own  safety,  1  went  down  into  the  valle\-  to  get  help.  The  great  bear- 
hunter,  who  keeps  one  of  the  summer  boarding-houses,  received  my 
story  with  a  smile  of  incredulity ;  and  the  incredulity  spread  to  the 
other  inhabitants  and  to  the  boarders  as  soon  as  the  story  was 
known.  However,  as  I  insisted  in  all  soberness,  and  offered  to  lead 
them  to  the  bear,  a  party  of  forty  or  fift\-  people  at  last  started  off 
with  me  to  bring  the  bear  in.  Nobody  believed  there  was  anv  bear 
in  the  case;  but  everybody  who  could  get  a  gun  carried  one;  and 
we  went  into  the  woods  armed  with  guns,  pistols,  pitchforks,  and 
sticks,  against  all  contingencies  or  surprises, — a  crowd  made  up 
mostly  of  scoffers  and  jeerers. 

But  when  I  led  the  way  to  the  fatal  spot,  and  pointed  out  the 
bear  lying  peacefully  wrapped  in  his  own  skin,  something  like  ter- 
ror seized  the  boarders  and  genuine  excitement  the  natives.  It 
was  a  no-mistake  bear,  by  George  !  and  the  hero  of  the  tight — 
well,  I  will  not  insist  upon  that.  But  what  a  procession  that  was, 
carrying  the  bear  home !  and  what  a  congregation  was  speedilv 
gathered  in  the  valley  to  see  the  bear !  Our  best  preacher  up  there 
never  drew  anything  like  it  on  Sunday. 

And  I  must  say  that  my  particular  friends,  who  were  sports- 
men, behaved  very  well,  on  the  whole.  The)-  didn't  deny  that  it  was 
a  bear,  although  they  said  it  was  small  for  a  bear.  Mr.  Deane,  who 
is  equally  good  with  a  rifle  and  a  rod,  admitted  that  it  was  a  ver\ 
fair  shot.  He  is  probably  the  best  salmon-fisher  in  the  United  States, 
and  he  is  an  equally  good  hunter.  I  suppose  there  is  no  person  in 
America  who  is  more  desirous  to  kill  a  moose  than  he. 

But  he  needlessly  remarked,  after  he  had  examined  the  wound  in 
the  bear,  that  he  had  seen  that  kind  of  a  shot  made  by  a  cow's  horn. 

This  sort  of  talk  affected  me  not.  When  I  went  to  sleep  that 
night  my  last  delicious  thought  was :  "  I've  killed  a  bear." 


I'f' 


A  FIGHT  WITH  A  TROUT 


Bv  CHARLES  DUDLKV  WARNKR, 

AUTHOR  OK   ..MY   Sl/MMKR   .N   A   GAROKN,'  ■■  ,s    nU:    UU.I.KRNESS, '      •  MADHECK,  '  KTC. 


TROUT-FISHING  in  the  Adirondacks  would  be  a  more  attract- 
ive pastime  than  it  is,  but  for  the  popular  notion  of  its  dan<rer. 
The  trout  is  a  retirin<r  and  harmless  animal,  except  when"  he 
IS  aroused  and  forced  into  a  combat;  and  then  his  a<,Mlity,  fierceness 
and  vindictiveness  become  apparent.     No  one  who  has  studied  the 
excellent   pictures   representin.^   men  in  an  open    boat,   exposed    to 
the  assaults  of  long,  enraged  trout  flying  at  them  through  the  open 
air  with  open  mouth,   ever  ventures  with  his  rod  upon   the   lonely 
lakes  of  the  forest  without  a  certain   terror,  or  ever  reads  of  the 
exploits  of  daring  fishermen  without  a  feeling  of  admiration  for  their 
heroism.      Most  of  their  adventures  are   thrilling,  and  all  of  them 
are,    in    narration,    more   or  less  unjust   to  the  trout;    in    fact,   the 
object  of  them  seems  to  be  to  exhibit,  at  the  expense  of  the  trout 
the  shrewdness,  the  skill,  and  the  muscular  power  of  the  sportsman.' 
My  own  simple  story  has  few  of  these  recommendations. 

We  had  built  our  bark  camp  one  summer,  and  were  staying 
on  one  of  the  popular  lakes  of  the  .Saranac  region.  It  would  be 
a  very  pretty  region,  if  it  were  not  so  flat,  if  the  margins  of  the 
lakes  had  not  been  flooded  by  dams  at  the  outlets,— which  have 
killed  the  trees,  and  left  a  rim  of  ghastl\-  dead-wood,  like  the 
swamps  of  the  under- world  pictured  by  Dores  />/.ccinr  pencil.— and 
if  the  pianos  at  the  hotels  were  in  tune.  It  would  be  an  e.xcellent 
sporting  region  also  (for  there  is  water  enough),  if  the  fish  com- 
missioners  would   stock   the   waters,   and   if  previous   hunters   had 


i   ' 


■   i 


828 


A  Fight  with  a   J  rout. 


t't 


\\ 


not  pulled  all  the  hair  and  skin  off  from  the  decrs'  tails.  Formerly, 
sportsmen  had  a  habit  of  catching  the  deer  by  the  tails,  and  of 
being  dragged  in  mere  wantonness  round  and  round  the  shores.  It 
is  well  known  that  if  you  seize  a  deer  bv  this  "holt,"  the  skin  will 
slip  off  like  the  peel  from  a  banana.  This  refehensible  practice 
was  carried  so  far  that  the  traveler  is  now  hourly  pained  by  the 
sight  of  peeled -tailed  deer  mournfully  sneaking  about    the  wood. 

We  had  been  hearing  for  weeks  of  a  small  lake  in  the  heart 
of  the  virgin  forest,  some  ten  miles  from  our  camp,  which  was  alive 
with  trout,  unsophisticated,  hungry  trout ;  the  inlet  to  it  was  described 
as  stiff  with  them.  In  my  imagination,  I  saw  them  lying  there  in 
ranks  and  rows,  each  a  foot  long,  three  tiers  deep,  a  solid  mass.  The 
lake  had  never  been  visited,  except  by  stray  sable-hunters  in  the 
winter,  and  was  known  as  the  Unknown  Pond.  I  determined  to 
explore  it,  fully  expecting,  however,  that  it  would  prove  to  be  a  delu- 
sion, as  such  mysterious  haunts  of  the  trout  usually  are.  Confiding 
my  purpose  to  Luke,  we  secretly  made  our  preparations,  and  stole 
away  from  the  shanty  one  morning  at  day-break.  Each  of  us  carried 
a  boat,  a  pair  of  blankets,  a  sack  of  bread,  pork,  and  maple  sugar ; 
while  I  had  my  case  of  rods,  creel,  and  book  of  flies,  and  Luke  had 
an  axe  and  the  kitchen  utensils.  We  think  nothing  of  loads  of  this 
sort  in  the  woods. 

Five  miles  through  a  tamarack  swamp  brought  us  to  the  inlet  of 
Unknown  Pond,  upon  which  we  embarked  our  fleet,  and  paddled 
down  its  vagrant  waters.  They  were  at  first  sluggish,  winding 
among  tristc  fir-.trees,  but  gradually  developed  a  strong  current.  At 
the  end  of  three  miles,  a  loud  roar  ahead  warned  us  that  we  were 
approaching  rapids,  falls,  and  cascades.  We  paused.  The  danger 
was  unknown.  We  had  our  choice  of  shouldering  our  loads  and 
making  a  detour  through  the  woods,  or  of  "shooting  the  rapids." 
Naturally,  we  chose  the  more  dangerous  course.  Shooting  the 
rapids  has  often  been  described,  and  I  will  not  repeat  I'le  description 
here.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  I  drove  my  frail  bark  through  the 
boiling  rapids,  over  the  successive  water-falls,  amid  rocks  and  vicious 
eddies,  and  landed  half  a  mile  below,  with  whitened  hair  and  a  boat 
half  full  of  water;  and  that  the  guide  was  upset,  and  boat,  contents, 
and  man  were  strewn  along  the  shore. 

After  this  common  experience  we  went  quickly  on  our  journey, 


"F 


A  Fight  luifh  a  Tn)iii. 


829 


1 


and,  a  couple  of  hours  before  sundown,  reached  the  lake.  If  I  live 
to  my  dyiny  day  I  never  shall  forget  its  appearance.  The  lake  is 
almost  an  exact  circle,  about  a  cpiarter  of  a  mile  in  diameter.  The 
forest  about  it  was  untouched  by  axe  and  unkilled  by  artificial  flood- 
ing. The  azure  water  had  a  perfect  .setting  of  evergreens,  in  which 
all  the  shades  of  the  fir,  the  balsam,  the  pine,  and  the  spruce  were 
perfectly  blended;  and  at  intervals,  on  the  shore  in  the  emerald 
rim,  blazed  the  ruby  of  the  cardinal-flower.  It  was  at  once  evi- 
dent that  the  unruffled  waters  had  never  been  vexed  by  the  keel 
of  a  boat.  But  what  chiefly  attracted  my  attention  and  amused 
me  was  the  boiling  of  the  water,  bubbling  and  breaking,  as  if  the 
lake  were  a  vast  kettle,  with  a  fire  underneath.  A  tyro  would 
have  been  astonished  at  this  common  phenomenon;  but  sportsmen 
will  at  once  understand  me  when  I  say  that  the  water  boiled 
with  the  breaking  trout.  I  studied  the  surface  for  some  time  to  see 
upon  what  sort  of  flies  they  were  feeding,  in  order  to  suit  my  cast  to 
their  appetites ;  but  they  seemed  to  be  at  play  rather  than  feeding, 
leaping  high  in  the  air  in  graceful  curves,  and  tumbling  about  each 
other  as  we  see  them  in  the  Adirondack  pictures. 

It  is  well  known  that  no  person  who  regards  his  reputation  will 
ever  kill  a  trout  with  anything  but  a  fly.  It  re([uires  some  training  on 
the  part  of  the  trout  to  take  to  this  method.  The  uncultivated,  unso- 
phiscated  trout  in  unfrequented  waters  prefers  the  bait ;  and  the  rural 
people,  whose  sole  object  in  going  a-fishing  appears  to  be  to  catch  fish, 
indulge  them  in  their  primitive  taste  for  the  worm.  No  sportsman, 
however,  will  use  anything  but  a  fly,  except  he  happens  to  be  alone. 

While  Luke  launched  my  boat,  and  arranged  his  seat  in  the  stern, 
I  prepared  my  rod  and  line.  The  rod  is  a  bamboo,  weighing  seven 
ounces,  which  has  to  be  spliced  with  a  winding  of  silk  thread  every 
time  it  is  used.  This  is  a  tedious  process ;  but  by  fastening  the 
joints  in  this  way,  a  uniform  spring  is  secured  in  the  rod.  No  one 
devoted  to  high  art  would  think  of  using  a  socket-joint.  My  line 
was  forty  yards  of  untwisted  silk  upon  a  multi|jlying  reel.  The 
"leader"  (I  am  very  particular  about  my  leaders)  had  been  made  to 
order  from  a  domestic  animal  with  which  I  had  been  acquainted. 
The  fisherman  requires  as  good  a  catgut  as  the  violinist.  The  inte- 
rior of  the  house-cat,  it  is  well  known,  is  exceedingly  sensitive ;  but 
it  may  not  be  so  well  known  that  the  reason  why  some  cats  leave 


1-: 


t    i! 


1 1 
1 

I    il 


1.  ! 


830 


A  Fight  with  a  Trout. 


the  room  in  distress  when  a  piano-forte  is  played  is  because  the  two 
instruments  are  not  in  the  same  key,  and  the  vibrations  of  the  chortlfs 
of  the  one  are  in  discord  with  the  catj^ut  of  the  other.  On  six  feet 
of  this  superior  article  I  fixed  three  artificial  flies, — a  simple  brown 
hackle,  a  ^ray  body,  with  scarlet  wings,  and  one  of  my  own  inven- 
tion, whicii  I  thought  would  be  new  to  the  most  experienced  fly- 
catcher. I'he  trout-fly  does  not  resemble  any  known  species  of 
insect.  It  is  a  "conventionalized"  creation,  as  we  say  of  ornamen- 
tation. The  theory  is  that,  fly-fishing  being  a  high  art,  the  fly  must 
not  be  a  tame  imitation  of  nature,  but  an  artistic  suggestion  of  it.  It 
recpiires  an  artist  to  construct  one,  and  not  every  bungler  can  Jake  a 
bit  of  red  fljvjiinel,  a  peacock's  feather,  a  flash  of  tinsel  thread,  a  cock's 
plume,  a  section  of  a  hen's  wing,  and  fabricate  a  tiny  object  that  will 
not  look  like  any  fly,  but  still  will  suggest  the  universal  conventional  fly. 
I  look  my  stand  in  the  center  of  the  tipsy  boat ;  and  Luke  shoved 
off,  and  slowly  paddled  toward  some  lily-pads,  while  I  began  casting, 
unlimbering  my  tools,  as  it  were.  The  fish  had  all  disappeared.  I 
got  out,  perhaps,  fifty  feet  of  line,  with  no  response,  and  gradually 
increased  it  to  one  hundred.  It  is  not  difficult  to  U  arn  to  cast ;  but 
it  is  dift'icult  to  learn  not  to  snap  off  the  flies  at  every  throw.  Of 
this,  however,  we  will  not  speak.  I  continued  casting  for  some 
moments,  until  I  became  satisfied  that  there  had  been  a  miscalcula- 
tion. Hither  the  trout  were  too  green  to  know  what  I  was  at,  or 
they  were  dissatisfied  with  my  offers.  I  reeled  in  and  changed  the 
flies  (that  is,  the  fly  that  was  not  snapped  off).  After  stud)  ing  the 
color  of  the  sky,  of  the  water,  and  of  the  foliage,  and  the  moderated 
light  of  the  afternoon,  I  put  on  a  series  of  beguilers,  all  of  a  subdued 
brilliancy,  in  harmony  with  the  approach  of  evening.  At  the  .second 
cast,  which  was  a  short  one,  I  .saw  a  splash  where  the  leader  fell,  and 
gave  an  excited  jerk.  The  next  instant  I  perceived  the  game,  and 
did  not  need  the  unfeigned  "dam"  of  Luke  to  convince  me  that  I 
had  .snatched  his  felt  hat  from  his  head  and  deposited  it  among 
the  lilies.  Discouraged  by  this,  we  whirled  about,  and  paddled  over 
to  the  inlet,  where  a  little  ripple  was  visible  in  the  tinted  light.  .\t 
the  very  first  cast  I  saw  that  the  hour  had  come.  Three  trout  leaped 
into  the  air.  The  danger  of  this  maneuver  all  fishermen  understand. 
It  is  one  of  the  commonest  in  the  woods ;  three  heavy  trout  taking 
hold  at  once,  rushing  in  different  directions,  smash  the  tackle  into 


\i   ;  ■! 


A  Fight  with  n   J  rout. 


83' 


flinders.  I  evaded  this  catch  and  threw  aj^ain.  I  recall  th(!  moment. 
A  hermit-thrush,  on  the  tip  ol  a  balsam,  uttered  his  lonj^r,  li(|ui(l, 
eveninj.;  note.  1  lappeninj^  to  look  over  my  shoulder,  1  saw  the  peak 
of  Marcy  j^deam  rosy  in  the  sky  (I  can't  help  it  that  Marcy  is  fifty 
miles  off,  and  cannot  be  seen  from  this  region  ;  these  incidental 
touches  are  always  used).  The  hundreil  feet  of  silk  swished  thr<  uj^h 
the  air,  and  the  tail-fly  fell  as  lij,duly  on  the  water  as  a  three-cent 
piece  (which  no  slamminj;  will  j^ive  the  weij^ht  of  a  ten)  drops  up(  n 
the  contribution-plate.    Instantly  there  was  a  rush,  a  swirl.     I  strut  k. 

and  "  Ciot  him,  by !"  never  mind  what   Luke;  said  I  jj^ot  him  by. 

"Out  on  a  fly,"  continued  that  irrevenl  j^aiidt: ;  but  1  told  him  to 
back  water  and  make  for  the  center  of  the  lake.  The  trout,  as  soon 
as  he  felt  the  prick  of  the  hook,  was  off  like  a  shot,  and  took  out  the 
whole  of  the  line  with  a  rapidity  that  made  it  smoke,  "(live  him 
the  butt!"  shouted  I.uke.  It  is  the  usual  remark  in  such  an  emer- 
gency. I  gave  him  the  butt;  and  recognizing  the  fact  and  my  spirit, 
the  trout  at  once  sank  to  the  bottom  and  sulked.  It  is  the  most 
dangerous  mood  of  a  trout ;  for  you  cannot  tell  what  he  will  tlo 
ne.xt.  We  reeled  up  a  little,  and  waited  five  minutes  for  him  to 
reflect.  A  tightening  of  the  line  enraged  him,  and  he  soon  ileveloped 
his  tactics.  Coming  to  the  surface,  he  made  straight  for  the  boat 
faster  than  I  could  reel  in,  and  evidently  with  hostile  intentions. 
"  Look  out  for  him  !  "  cried  Luke,  as  he  came  flying  in  the  air.  I 
evaded  him  by  dropping  flat  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat ;  and  when  1 
picked  my  traps  up,  he  was  spinning  across  the  lake  as  if  he  had  a 
new  idea;  but  the  line  was  still  fast.  He  did  not  run  far.  1  gave 
him  the  butt  again  ;  a  thing  he  seemed  to  hate,  even  as  a  gift.  In  a 
moment  the  evil-minded  fish,  lashing  the  water  in  his  rage,  was 
coming  back  again,  making  straight  for  the  boat  as  before.  Luke, 
who  was  used  to  these  encounters,  having  read  of  them  in  tin; 
writings  of  travelers  he  had  accompanied,  raised  his  paddle  in  self- 
defense.  The  trout  left  the  water  about  ten  foet  from  the  boat,  and 
came  directly  at  me  with  fiery  eyes,  his  spect  led  sides  flashing  like 
a  meteor.  I  dodged  as  he  whisked  by  with  a  vicious  slap  of  his 
bifurcated  tail,  and  nearly  upset  the  boat.  The  line  was  of  course 
slack ;  and  the  danger  was  that  he  would  entangle  it  al)out  me  and 
carry  away  a  leg.  This  was  evidently  his  game,  but  I  entangled  it, 
and  only  lost  a  breast-button  or  two  by  the  swiftly-moving  string.   The 


:ff 


ifl'l 


,M 


m  \ 


uf-^ 


832 


^  /'/g///  icith  a    Tmiit. 


trout  |)liinjf(!il  into  tlu;  water  with  a  hissinj;-  soiiml,  and  went  away 
ajfain  with  all  tin;  line  on  the  reel.  More  l)iitt;  more  indij^nalion  on 
the  part  of  the  captive-.  The  contest  had  now  l)een  Koin}.j  on  lor 
half  an  hour,  and  !  was  j^^ettinj^f  exhausted.  We  hail  been  l)ack  and 
forth  across  tin:  lake  and  round  and  round  the  lake.  What  1  fiared 
was  that  the  trout  would  start  up  the  inh-t  and  wreck  us  in  the  bushes. 
Mut  he  had  a  new  fancy,  and  hej^an  the  execution  of  a  maneuver 
which  I  had  never  read  of  lnst(!ail  of  cominjf  straijj^ht  toward  me. 
he  took  a  larjt^e  circle,  swimminjj;  rapitlly,  and  gradually  contractinj,f 
his  orbit.  1  reeleil  in,  and  kept  my  eye  on  him.  Round  and  round 
he  went,  narrowinjj;'  his  circU;.  1  bej^^an  to  suspect  the  ^ame ;  which 
was  to  twist  my  head  off  When  he  had  reduced  the  radius  of  his 
circle  to  about  twenty-five  feet,  he  struck  a  triMiiendous  |)ace  throuj,di 
the  water.  It  would  be  false  moilesty  in  a  sportsman  to  say  that  I 
was  not  e(|ual  to  the  occasion.  Instead  of  turninj^  round  with  him, 
as  he  expected,  I  st(!pped  to  the  bow,  braced  myself  and  let  the  boat 
swinjj;.  Round  went  the  fish,  and  round  we  went  like  a  top.  I  saw 
a  line  of  Mount  Marcys  all  round  thi;  hori/on  ;  the  rosy  tint  in 
the  west  made  a  broad  band  of  pink  alon},^  the  sky  above  the  tree- 
tops  ;  the  evenin}f-star  was  a  perfect  circle  of  li^ht,  a  hoop  of  ijold 
in  the  heavens.  We  whirh.'d  and  reeled,  and  reelt.-d  and  whirled. 
I  was  willin<,r  to  j,dve  the  malicious  beast  butt  and  line  and  all,  if 
he  would  only  <^(^  the  other  way  for  a  chauj^e. 

When  I  came  to  myself  Luke  was  jj^afiinj^  the  trout  at  the  boat- 
side.  After  we  had  i(ot  him  in  and  dressed  him  he  weij^hed  three- 
quarters  of  a  pound.  I'Msh  always  lose  by  beinjj;  "  j^^ot  in  and  dressed." 
It  is  best  to  weigh  them  while  they  are  in  the  water.  The  only 
really  larije  one  I  ever  caujrht  \io\.  away  with  my  leader  when  I 
first  struck  him.      He  weijfhed  ten  pounds. 


MOW   TO    MOUNT   A    lilRI). 


liv   rRKDKRlC    A.   I,l/(AS, 


kx-i'ki:.sii)|.:nt  oi'  tiic;  solikty  cm-  ami:hic.»n   iaxiukkmists. 


m 


SHOULD  you  become  the  prey  of  a  desire  to  mount  some  pretty 
son^rster,  quaint  owl,  or  swift-winj^'ed  ^iunr.  bird  that  has  fallen 
a  victim  to  your  skill,  it  is  iioped  that  a  careful  perusal  of  this 
chiij)ter  will  enable  you   to  do  so.      I'irst,  however,  expt^riment  with 
a  bird  or  two  that  you  do  not  particularly  care;  for  Ix^fore  essayinjr 
your  skill  on  one  that  you  prize.      In  selectin.tr  a  bird   for  your  first 
trial,  choose;  one  of  moderate  size  and  comparatively  t()u<,rh  skin.    The 
robin,  cow  buntin^r,  crow  blackbird,  and  bob  white  arc  aTl  pretty  jrood 
subjects,  while  woodpeckers,   cuckoos,  and  very  lar^e  or  very  small 
birds  are  to  be  shunned  until  you  have  acepiired  some  little  e.vperience. 
When  you  have  ac(|uired  skill  by  practice,  you  will  find  amon^^  young 
birds  and  mammals  some  of  the  prettiest  and  (juaintest  subjects  for  your 
art.      When  setting  out  with  the  intention  or  expectati.jn  of  securing 
birds  for  mounting,  take  with  you  a  newspapcM-  or  two.  a  little  cotton 
batting,  and  a  pair  of  forceps.    As  soon  as  a  bird  is  shot,  plug  the  vent, 
nostrils,  and  mouth  with  cotton ;  also,  treat  any  large  shot-holes   in 
the  same  manner,  and   transfer  the  bird,  head  downward,  to  a  paper 
cornucopia  of  such  length  that  you  may  twist  together  the  open  end 
without  damaging  the  tail.      If  there  is  blood  on  the  plumage,  do  not 
attempt  to  remove  it  until  reaching  home.     The  best  thing  in  which 
to  carry  birds  is  a  fish-basket,  as  in  that  they  are  not  bent  out  of 
shape.      Do  not  skin  the  bird  as  soon  as  it  is  shot,  but  wait  a  little 
53 


n;  ' 


!( 


:ivfl'n 


¥H 


■m" 


..!  ^    f 


.1' 


834 


//(/?u  to   Mount  It  Hiy(t. 


wliil<:,  iiiilil  llic  Mood  lias  coa^jjiilalcil.  licforc  ( (Jiniixnciiij^f  opera- 
tions, study  the.  hird  canliill)  ;  note  wlnTc  tlx;  uinjrs  li<-  uIkii  folded, 
mark  liow  far  forward  and  how  low  down  arc  t.l>''  knees,  and,  ahov  all, 
notice  tin-  leii^'lh  oi  lli'-  \)\xi\.  \  v«Ty  ^^eod  |)iai)  is  10  ;^'enll)  siritcli 
a  bird  to  its  utmost,  and  to  make  a  mark  at  the  li|>  of  ils  hill  and  at 
the  end  of  ils  tail,  for  future  referenc*'.  .\nylhin4  over  this  is,  of  roursi-, 
wroni(,  and  tlu.-re  are   but  lew   positions  wiierein   this  limit  would   he 


KI.ADV     I'OH     WnKK. 


reaclu  I.  lor  skinninj^  purpose's,  you  need  a  scalpel  or  other  small 
kniff,  a  pair  of  sharp  pointed  scissors,  a  knitlinj^f  needle,  ami  a  jiairof 
small  spriii^r  forceps;  also,  a  dish  of  plaster-of-|jaris,— w  liive  corn 
meal  may  lie  used  instead,  — ami  either  jjowdered  arsenic  or  arseiiit  al 
soa|j.*      Cotton  hatiin^f,  of(:(*m-se,  is  in(  hided  amon^f  the  necessities, 

•  W'liii  li  iif  llicsc  Iwo  iii.iy  III-  llic  l)(;ttirr  is  i)|)(.'ii  to  disi  iissioii,  Iml  i  |ir(rfir  louse 
till- s').i|).  I'owdcri'd  .irst'iiii  ,  iiiixcd  with  li.dt  its  w(;i;^lil  of  jjowdtTird  .iliini,  is  cisily 
ol)t;iiiicd.  .iiid  doi-s  iiol  -.oil  tin'  Ic.iiIhts  it  it  1  oiin' ,  in  <  oiiI.-k  I  with  lln-iii.  '  )n  llic  1  01, 
Iniry,  it  is  not  -,0  pc  iirlnilin;^  ,is  tin-  ^o.ip.  dors  not  sIm  k  to  llic  skin  when  it  is  .11  ^11  dry, 
and  .-It  limes  dries  the  skin  too  r.i|)idlv.  Arseiiii  nl  soap  is  pcnetnitin^;,  keeps  the  skin 
moist,  .aid  .Ills  .-Is  .1  IiiIihi  .int  when  yi.ii  are  insert  iii^;,  die  nei  k  or  liiriiiii^  the  \iv>.  Its 
oni;  disadv.aiil'ii^e  is  dial   voii  niiist  use  j  i  .ireriillv  in  order  liol  1  i  miiI  die  (e.itliers. 


How  to  Mount  a  Binl. 


a.'is 


/\     TAXIIUHMIM    S     SAM.  I  I'M. 


r  small 

|»air  "I 

i'j-   corn 

irsriiiial 

(  ssiiics. 

■  |,  r  K'  tisi" 

II,  IS  cisilv 

II     tllC    '  'II, 

,  ;i(  :ill  'Iry. 
,,  till-  -V'^Vi 
l,(^s.      Its 

tllTS. 


I'irsI  (leans*:  oH  any  lilrxxl  stains  \>\  wasliin;;  (anlnily  wiih  i(|)i(| 
walcr  and  (Iryin;^^  with  |>lasl(T  o(  paris.*  I'x-  (anluj  tluit  -^oii  allow 
n(j  |ilaslcr  to  "set,"  on  tin:  rcatlicis,  hiil  kirp  tin  in  ((instantly  moving, 
cliaiiffinj^f  llic  plast(;r  now  and  llh:n,  uiilil  <)nilc  dry.  i'.  new  llic 
];1m^  .  ot  (i)lton  in  the  vent,  month,  and  nostrils,  placinj^  .1  ii.  ■  plaster 
ill  the  throat  hefore  iiitrodiK  in^r  the  (otloii,  and  also  [/iiltiii;^^  a  pinch 
fjii  each  c)!'.  Now  lav  the  bird  on  its  hac  k,  part  lli'-  hatlK  rs  on  the 
under  side  down  the  center,  and  make  a  (  ul  hdin  'lear  the  iipixr  (  nd 
ol  ill'-  hn-astdfone  'o  the  vnt,  ending  in  it.  'i,d-;i-  (,irc  in  doii;;j  this 
not  to  <  111  lliroiii^li  the  thin  walls  of  ih'-  alidomin.il  cavity;  hut  il  von 
arc  iinliK  ky  enoiiidi  lo  do  lhi>,  aj»|)!\  (otton  and  plastci  lil)(iall\. 
<  at(  h  me  edj^c  (it  the  <  ut  skin  with  tin-  lorci-ps  or  lin^nr  tip'-,,  and 
work    the    liiilt    (li    the    s<alp'|    kctvvicr,    tlii     skin    and    hods   so   as    lo 

*  III  fill  ,  I  oiiii,  I  iKiii  I  ;.M\i-  IW)  III  i|,i'  :,  u  liii  II  u  ill  1)1  |i  uikI  II  ,1 -III!.  |!i  111  l,ii|  .mil 
vviii),;  I'Mllin  ,  tii;u  In-  ',lrMi;.'lili'iici|  liy  'li|)|iiii;4  in  h''!  w,ilrr;  ur,  !irlli  r  m  1,  lis  linlijiii;,' 
I  Ill-Ill  IIP  ,1  jcl  lit  '.liMiii  — ijiiJv  in  'liiinj,'  tills  l)i-u,irr  1)1  stciiiiiii:  lir'  k  in,  ur  il  w  ill  liri.,:; 
■|ii  irin')\'  ;.'ir;i,r,  a.isli  with  liirpciiliiii-  ,iii(l  dry  «itli  |)l,r-,lrr.  till'  lir.iw  li;ii  k  in  ii  iny 
|(l:isu-i  is  tin-  ilillii  iilly  'il  ri.'iiinviii;.'  ;ill  ir.ii  rs  1)1  il  :  liiil  liy;.M-iill\  lnMlin,'  :;ni|  iliiliii;.', 
(Ills  1  ;in  III-  ,11  I  iiiii|ili  lii-il. 


836 


How  to  Mount  a  Bint. 


'V  } 


m. 


*'l;'.  ! 


-' 

?l  ■  '    .■• 

1 

r? :  ■ 

|)usli  off  llic  skin.  I'rom  tiiiK;  to  liiiK.-  piil  on  a  lilllc  plaster,  to 
al)S()rl>  llic  nioistiirc  Iroin  the  body  and  to  ijrcvtiU  llic  fi-allnTs  from 
sliclsini^  to  it.  Work  down  nnlil  yon  reach  the  knee,  \vh(Mi  you  pusli 
n|)  the  V-'j^  from  wilhoiit,  insert  the  point  ol  tlie  scissors  or  scal|)el 
under  tlie  IxmhK  and  cut  tiirou^di  the  joint.  Continue  to  push  iij)  the 
Ic}^  and  work  down  llie  skin  until  it  is  skinned  as  (ardown  as  possihle. 
You  will  fnid  the  fni^er  nails  most  ns(  ful  for  this  purjjose.  Sever 
the  tendons  low  down  .md  l(,-ar  off  the  muscles.  Draw  the  le;^  l);i,vl\ 
smoothly  and  skin  the  opposite  one;.  WOrk  the  skin  well  away  hxVvft 
the  sides  of  the  ixxly  and  down  to  the  hase  o(  the  tail.  (  ui  ,i(  ?i)ss 
the  lovv<'r  l)Owel,  and,  working  the  point  of  the  scissors  lar''  ,,  under 
the  lower  |>art  ol   th<'  hackhone,  divide   it  just  aho  loots  ol  the 

tail  feathers.  A  bird's  skin  is  \<'ry  thin  just  at  this  particular  point. 
I  he  operation  al)ov<'  descril)(;<l  recpiires  nnich  care,  .nid  at  first  "<c,»- 
sionally  results  in  de-tailin;.^  the  bin,  Work  the  skin  (auti<.'isl\ 
away  from  tin-  lower  part  ol  the  back,  not  pnlliii}^  it,  but  pushinj^  it 
^a;ntly  or  ciillinL,'  carelully  at  its  junction  with  tin;  body.  You  may 
find  it  convi-nient  at  this  stai;e  to  haniu;  the  bird  from  .a  hook 
susjjended  ov(fr  your  work  table;  but  after  a  little  practice  ll.r,  .ill  je 
necessary  only  witli  larj^e  birds.  The  skin  will  now  peel  easily  ;..)!n 
the  body  until  the  shoulder  joint  is  reach "d,  wli<n,  if  the  bird  is 
small,  you  cut  throii^rh  the  arm  bone  halfway  Ix.-tween  shoulder  and 
elbow,  or,  if  the  bird  is  larj^c,  disjoint  it.*  .\s  soon  as  the  win_t(s  are 
cut  loose,  lh(r  skin  comes  easily  away  from  the  n(;ck,  and  from  now 
onward  it  will  Ix'  necessary  to  support  the  skin,  as  otherwise  its 
w<-ij.,dil,  esjiecially  in  a  ^ood  sized  l.'ud,  /ould  !)(•  apt  to  stretch  the 
neck.  You  now  couk-  to  the  base  ol  th  •  skiiil,  and  h<re  you  will 
meet  with  mor('  or  less  trouble,  for  ^enerall)  it  is  hard  to  j^et  the 
hea<l  throuL(h  the  neck.  In  fact,  some  birds,  such  as  ducks,  wood 
|)e(k(M's,  and  the  like,  have  such  larj^c  heads  that  it  is  impossible  to 
skin  them  throin^h  the  neck.  In  such  cases,  server  the  net  k  c  lose  to 
the  skull,  and,  tiirniiiL;  the  skin  rii^ht  sitle  out,  make  a  cut  alonjL;  the 
top  and  back  of  the  head.  IhroiiiL^h  this  opctnin^  tlu;  skill'  ma\  be 
readily  skinned  ou'.  I  sually,  howev(;r,  yon  can  coa.x  away  the  .kin 
until  the  (-ars  are   reached,  or,    rather,  the  deli(  ai<-  m<;mbrane  lininjf 


.•irm  lioiic  iiiiisl  :il'.'i  III-  liTl  cMlirc  il    vnil  wish  In  irioiiiil  llic  liiril  willi  siirr.Kl 


Willis. 


slcr,  lo 
rs  troiu 
)ii  jmsli 
sc;il|)cl 
1  lip  lli<- 
)<)ssil)lf. 
Scv<r 

It,  ;in<)ss 

lis  iiiiil'  r 
ts  1)1    lli<: 
ir    jxiinl. 
rsl     ■■  ■ 
;uili"'isl> 
ushin^   it 
You  in;iy 
;i    liook 
■.is  >..  iii  'if 
isii^  ;. "ill 
(•    l)ir(l  is 
lUlcr  ;iii<i 
wiii.i(s  ;ir<- 

iVoill    MOW 

•rwisf    its 
irctdi  lli< 


y 


oil    will 
'^(■\    tii<- 


■CS,    WliOll 

)ssil)lc  til 
<  (lose  to 
aloni;  lli'' 
may  1»<' 
y  the  '.kin 
lie  linin;4 


L„ 


with  SjircKl 


5.S  \ 


-In 


'W(l' 

PI^IPI 

M;'fr  V'  ■ 

'mR ''  i'.     '' 

i 

'■f' 

1/ 

M 

J. 

1  :  ■■ 

m 


1 1 010  to  Mount  (I  Bint. 


«39 


AK'il   s     I'lll.ASAN  I  .' 


the  p.'issaj^c.  Cut  throiiL^h  this,  as  near  llic  skull  as  possiljlr,  insert 
iii}^  llir  scalpel  point  imder  the  front  portion,  and  pickin;^  it  out. 
Ilavin^r  (lone  this,  yon  come  almost  immediately  to  thi-  eyes,  and 
lu-re  it  re(|iiiri's  careful  cuttin;^^  to  detach  tin:  skin  withoul  injur)  to 
the  eyelid.  lie  carf:lul  also  not  to  (  ut  inio  the  eyehall,  ,ind  thus 
let  the  inclosed  flui<l  out  on  the  feathers.  Skin  \v(;ll  down  to  the 
hasc  f)l  the  hill;  it  )()U  do  not,  the  place  where  you  left  oil  will  he 
marked  hy  an  unsij.(htly  rW^v  in  ihi'  mount<;d  hird.  lake  out  ihe 
eyes,  cut  off  tin;  liase  and  und<r  pari  ol  lh<-  skull,  and  most  ol  the 
lirain,  tot(<:ther  with  the  lon^nie,  will  (onic  away  will)  llie  ni  i  k. 
Scrape  the  nuat  from  the  jaw,  and  all  is  done;  save  '.kinnint^  the 
wiiiLjs.  It  may  he  allowahh-  in  small  hirds  to  skin  the  winLjs  to  ihe 
wrists,  delachini;  the  secondaries  from  the  houf;  imt  ;dthouLdi  it 
saves  a  litth-  time,  I  would  nol  r<(  onunend  il.  I  he  luitcr  \\;i\  is  lo 
r<'mo\e  the  inusc  |c  on  lli<-  iori-  ,inn  with  forceps,  all(|-  li;ivini;  worked 
down  the  skin  ;i  ,  l.ir  ,is  possilih'  on  the  front  cdt;'-  of  the  \\inL(s. 
I'oison  thr  skull  thorouLdiK'.  and  put  ;i  litd''  (olloii  in  the  <\i-  socl; 
<ts,  —  enoiij^h  to  fill,  hut  nol  distend  lliein,  —  ,dso  hrin^iuL;  a  ihin  flap 


*    I  III  ,  lijiisli.ilioii  ;iiii|  llir  lolliiuiiiu'   vM-rr  .ill  ilr.iwii  limii  ^in-c  iinin,  dI  llir  i.imiIi  r 
mist's  work. 


840 


H(nv  to   Moiiiil  (t  liiyd. 


J« 


i'i  ■  '' 


down  ovf:r  the  aii^flc  of  the  jaw.  Now  work  hack  the  skin  iinlil  you 
(an  catch  the  tip  of  the  liill,  and,  lioldiii^  on  l>y  it,  gently  push  back  the 
skin  with  the  lin^^er  tips  until  thi'  hird  is  rij^lil  side  oiU.  a^ain.  Xow 
poison  the  hody  thoroughly,  either  hy  shov<'lin)4  in  the  dry  arsenic  and 
workin^f  it  into  ev<'r)-  cranny  oi  the  n<r(  k,  win;.;s,  and  le;.;s,  or  hy 
pastinj^  on  arsenical  soap." 

( i<,-t  plenty  ol  preservative  on  the  roots  ol  the  tail,  fu'sl  reuiovini; 
th(r  oil  glands.  ()r(()urse,  the  bird  now  looks  a  little  nnissy,  hut  lh;u 
is  soon  niniedied.  With  the  forceps  or  kt)iltin^^  needle  rai',<-  the 
leathers  ne.ar  the  roots  and  hi  theni  droj)  into  place.  See  ih.ii  ihc 
wini^s  and  lej^s  are  not  twisted,  insert  the  ueedje  iu  the  eye,  run  it 
hetwei'ii  the  skull  and  skill,  and  work  the  latter  a  little  forward,  lor  the 
chaiu:(;s  are  that  the  skin  has  been  <lraj^j4<'d  backward  in  re  turnini;. 
Your  bird  is  now  skinned  and  lii's  before  you  ready  for  niountin;.;, 
and  lor  this  yon  need  certain  materials  and  tools.  Ww  materials 
are:  (xcejsiort  for  bodies,  Ime  tow  for  ne(  ks  .ind  le^s,  and  .iiuiealed 
Iron  wire  of  various  sizes.  I'ine  hay  (rowenj  or  coars(;  tow  makes 
j^'ood  bodies  where  e.xcelsior  is  not  obtainable,  ami  cotton  may  be 
used  as  a  rv/j /""^  substitute  f(,i- tow.  I  he  necessary  tools  ai'e  :  flat, 
round,  ;md  ciittinj^^  pli(;rs,  a  flat  file,  awls,  a  pair  oi  ei^ht  inch  sjjrin^ 
slufiniL;  forceps,  needles,  thread,  and  jHiis.  I  here  are  many  other 
tools  you  will  imd  hatidy  ;  and  anion;..;'  these  i  would  stroiij.;ly  recom 
mend  a  jctweler's  vise  having  a  hole  nmnini^  lengthwise  tiirouj^h  the 
handle.  Ihis  is  a  most  s(;rvic(;al)le  instrument  for  wiriniL(  birds'  lej^s. 
.Also,  make  yourseli  a  few  little  pushers,  by  llattc-nint.;  one  <nd  oi  a 
wire  si.x  or  ei^ht  inches  lon^  and  Idin-^  a  few  notches  in  it.  lieiid 
the;  opposite  end  into  a  \'\\v^.  t  lit  and  straiL^hteii  wires  for  tlx! 
lej.;s  and  body,  making;  them  am|)ly  l"n,u  t^"  allow  for  clinching 
and  selectiiiL;  wires  lor  the  lei^s  sufficiently  lar^e  to  firmly  support 
the  finished  bird.  Sharpen  boiji  cuds  oi  the  Imdy  wire  and  one  <Mid 
ol  the  ],•■.  wires.  I  he  first  step  is  to  unite  the  wiiiL;'  bone,  with  a 
thread,  so  that  tlie\  are  a  little  closer  than  tlie\'  were  orii^inally. 
I'asleii    the   thread   to   the   bone   toward    the   elbow,    ;ind    not   at    the 


•  M)  own  iiuiIiikI  1)1  ,i|i|rlyiiiK  tl'*'  ^'):i|)  is  .1.  lollows:  .M'lcr  ^,'i-lliii.L;  llic:  skin  rijilil 
side  out,  I  poison  IIk;  lui  k  .iliil  will).;s.  When  the  t:il  ,c  lioily  is  ilisfrli'il,  I  turn  down  tin; 
skill  a  litllr  and  (loisoii  all  .around  il,  .mil  liiiallv  I  |ioison  llic  Ici^s  jiisl  alter  llic\  luivc 
lM'(ai  uiicd  and  wr.i|i|)c-d.      'I'liiis  I   lessen  all  ili.iiKesol    slneaiili;;  llie  l(.-;illiers. 

\  Isxeelsior  i,  line  wooil  sli.i villus,  aliil  <  ,111  lie  olil.iiiied    li  .\\\\   ii|iliolslerer's. 


,11  1.. 


I Itrio  lit  Man II I  d  lUnL 


841 


lii  y<ni 

ids  tin: 

Now 

iiic  ami 

or  l)y 

iiioviii;^ 

IjuI  lli;il 

lIsc    tlic 

liat    lli«: 

!•,  run  il 

1,  lor  ill'- 

lurnin:.',. 

oiinlinv;. 

iial<-ri:ils 

iiuH'al'il 

,v   nials<'s 
may  1"' 

arc:  ll:it, 

h  sprin^f 

i>y  oili'r 

y  r< ■colli 
)\\'^\  iIk' 
s'  1«-Ks. 
nd   oi   ;i 
licnd 
lor    ili<- 
lincliin^ 
siiiijiorl 
one  end 
s  with  a 
i;,;inally- 
ot.   at    llif 

„■  sLin  ri;/,lil 
rn  (liiwn  iIk- 

•r  \\v\   li^i\L' 

Ids. 
■riT's. 


'fr^i^^;/ 


.I'l.A  I       \l   K,    I  in    '.Alt  I       I  '.Wl. 


ii|)|)(  r,  or  iric,  (■\tr<-iiiily.  It  a  hird  is  to  Ik-  iiioiinlcd  v\illi  '>|ir<ad 
wini^s,  the  first  iiio\c  is  lo  wire  them,  l)\  i-ntcriiiM  ,1  uirc  Iroiii  llir 
inside  just  inidcr  lli<-  clhoxs.  rinmin;'  il.  alon:'  o\ci'  tin-  lowiT  honi-  ol 
tlif  lorc-arni,  and  ( ontirjniniL;  it  on  the  under  side  (  |c;i|-  to  the  ii|)ol 
lli<-  uint;,  tlnrc  hrinL^in:.,;  it  oiil.  .-iiiii|j|i-  as  a  d<s(  i-i|)lioii  ol  tins 
o|)ci'alion  a|)|)i-ai"s,  it  is  rallifi-  dillic  nil  lo  piriorni  and  y"U  musl  |a'o 
cfi'il  slowK  and  (  arcfnlly.  Sccnrr  ill'-  \vir<-  to  tin'  ii|)|)(r  arm  l;onc 
just.  al)o\<-  ill'-  ijliow.  and  ayain  mar  ils  lr'<-  ixti'-miiy,  and  wind  a 
\(-ry  lilllf    low  aronnd    I'oili.       I  In-    \\in;;s   an-    lasli-ni-d    to    the    liody 


:  1: 

li;. 


842 


I  low  to  Moil  lit  a  Bint. 


WX 


m-\'  ■ 


in  precisely  tiie  same  manner  as  are  tlie  k-i^s,  —  hereafter  to  Ix 
described, — only,  of  course,  the  win^  wires  must  he  clinched  first. 
y\void  the  common  mistake  of  startintr  the  winj^s  from  the  sides  of 
the  body,  and  plact:  them  well  up  on  the  back. 

Xow,  with  the  botly  of  the  bird  lyini,^  before  you,  proceed  to  make 
one  of  excelsior  to  replace  it.  Note  w(,'ll  the  sj^eneral  sha|)e  of  the 
natural  body,  but  do  not  imai^ine  that  it  is  necessary  to  accurately 
copy  it.  Your  work  is  to  be  (;.\ternally  and  not  internally  correct, 
and  what  is  wanted  is  the  easiest  and  best  method  to  make  it 
fair  to  look  upon.  In  thicks  and  water-birds  j^enerally  the  body  is 
flattened  from  above  downward;  in  waders  it  is  flattened  sidewise ; 
while  in  most  others  it  is  rather  rounded.  Mold  the  e.xcelsior  between 
the  |)alms  of  your  hands,  and  wind  it  ti^'htly  with  fme  twine  or  stout 
thread,  addini^  a  little  material  here  and  there  to  brini;-  about  the 
desired  sha[)e.  L(;t  the  fmished  body  be  smooth,  a  trifle  narrower  on 
the  back  than  on  the  breast,  and  let  it  be  a  litth;  more  pointed  at  the 
tail  than  the  original.  .Above  all  thinj^^s,  make  it  firm  and  hard,  for 
on  the  soliditv  of  the  body  depcMids  the   stability   of  the  bird  ami  its 

abilit)-  to  undergowithoul  llinch- 
'\\\)^  the  twists  and  |)ulls  it  must 
undcri^M)  in  posint^.  i'ry  it  in 
the  skin,  and  if  it  does  not  fit, 
ih'U    nil    uisr:  is  wrmi).  make  any   re(|uired   alterations. 


Ihnv  to  Man  lit  a  Bint. 


843 


I' 1:1 


r  to  l)t 
c(l  first, 
sides  i)f 

to  maki'. 
ic  of  llit^ 
:curatcly 
correct, 
make    it 
body  is 
;le\vise  ; 
)et\vi'en 
ir  stout 
)out  the 
■ower  on 
A  at  the 
hard,  for 
and  its 
lul  ilineh- 
s  it  must 
Try   it  in 
;s  not  fit- 
terations. 


'lake  the  hody  wire,  l)end  it  like  a  I',  with  one  lonj^  and  ont;  siiorl 
lei^,  and  thrust  them  tlirou,t,di  tiie  Ixxly  from  the-  posterior  i\\i\  so  tiiat 
the  loni;  wir(!  may  come  out  a  httle  ah(»ve  the  center  ;  twist  tlie 
two  (Mids  toj,fether  for  a  turn  or  two,  and  cut  off  th('  shorter  end. 
1  loldin>4   the  hody   in   yoiu-  ri«^ht  hand,   you   twist   aroiuid   the   pro- 


Y(JINii     U'  \  IKHroWI.. 


jectini^  wire-  enouj^h  fine  tow  to  form  the  neck.  A  httle  practice 
will  .!L,nvc  you  the  knack  of  doint;  this  so  that  the  neck  will  hi:  hard 
and  smootii.  It  should  he  a  trifle  lari^'^er — not  lont^^er — than  the 
orij^inal,  because  the  f(;athers  will  lie  a  little  closer  in  the  uiounted 
than  in  the  living  bird,  anil  yet  their  necks  must  be  of  the  same 
size  outwardly.* 

If  there  is  the  slit^ditesl  danL,a;r  of  the  tow  becominjr  loo.se,  secure 
it  by  wrapping  with  fuie  thread;  in  fact,  if  you  do  this  always,  you 
will  be  saved  much  inconvenience  anil  loss  of  temper.      If  your  wire 

*  Herons  and  some  otlicr  liinis  luivi,'  tlattcni'd  necks,  wliicli  arc  made  in  the  fol- 
lowing manner :  Wind  a  small  nei  k  on  the  i)od\  wire  as  aliove  directed,  and  make  a 
second  roll  on  a  separate  and  smaller  wire,  rniting  tiiese  two.  you  iuive  a  tlat  ne(  k. 
which  imitates  tiie  muscles  and  the  wind-jiiiie. 


li: 


844 


llojv  to  Mount  a  Bird. 


\\v 


w\ 


I'u  »'  l'    i 


\mi  "|i* 


:\\ 


\  I  ■ 


is  suffici(!ntly  lonj^,  it  will  ])r()jcct  beyond  the  tow  neck  from  one  to 
three  inches,  accorclinjj;  to  the  size  of  the  bird,  insert  this  in  the  neck 
of  the  skin,  and  carefully  work  the  body  \\\t  into  thi:  skin  and  the  skin 
down  over  the  body,  brinj^in^  the  wire  out  throuj^h  the  crown  of  the 
head,  or  a  little  in  front  of  it.  He  careful  when  you  do  this  that  the 
skin  on  top  of  the  head  is  not  drawn  backward;  for  if  this  happens,  the 
wire  will  hold  it  there  and  an  unnatural  look  be  the  result.  You  will 
find  a  perverse  tendency  of  the  wire,  especially  in  lon<^-necked  birds,  to 
coine  out  through  the  side  of  the  neck.  Work  the  neck  up  into  the 
skin  until  it  meets  the  base  of  the  skull,  adjust  the  feathers  a  little, 
and  proceed  with  the  legs.  Insert  the  wire  in  the  sole  of  the  foot, 
and  with  a  twisting  motion  force  it  slowly  up  the  back  of  the  leg, 
past  the  heel, — too  often  called  knee, —  until  the  point  has  entered 
what  was  the  fleshy  part  of  the  leg.  Then  turn  the  leg  inside  out  so 
that  the  wire  may  not  catch  the  skin,  and  pull  it  through  with  a  pair 
of  pliers.  The  chances  are  ten  to  one  that,  for  the  first  few  times,  the 
leg  wire  will  insist  on  catching  in  the  heel-joint  or  coming  through 
the  skin  just  above  it;  but  we  will  suppose  that  the  leg  has  been  safely 
wired  and  that  the  wire  projects  for  a  short  distance  above  the  bone. 
The  muscles  of  the  leg  are  to  be  replaced  by  fine  tow  —  cotton  will  do 
for  small  birds,  but  not  at  all  for  large  ones  —  wound  on  smoothly 
until  the  leg  nicely  fits  the  skin. 

Observe  that  a  bird's  leg  has  a  most  graceful  taper,  like  that  of 
an  Indian  club,  and  that  it  does  not  start  abruptly  from  the  bone.  In 
turning  back  the  skin,  be  sure  that  you  do  not  get  a  twist  in  the  leg, 
a  very  common  and  vexatious  occurrence.  If  a  bird  is  to  be  made 
walking,  one  leg  must  be  wired  from  above  downward,  the  wire 
being  made  to  follow  along  the  middle  toe  and  brought  out  at  tlu^ 
first  joint.  Many  taxidermists  do  not  deem  it  worth  while  to  wrap 
the  legs  of  small  birds,  but  I  do  it  to  the  very  smallest ;  if  it  does 
nothing  more,  it  at  least  prevents  the  wire  from  coming  in  contact 
with  the  skin  and  possibly  rusting  through.  Having  made  the  legs, 
the  next  stej)  is  to  secure  them  to  the  bod}-,  and  this  is  done  by 
thrusting  the  wires  through  it,  Ijending  them  back,  and  finally  clinching 
the  points  on  the  sitles  from  which  they  started.  Three  points  should 
be  specially  looked  after:  first,  that  the  legs  are  solidly  attached  :  sec 
ond,  that  they  arc  not  too  high  up, —  /.  c,  too  near  the  back, — and, 
third,  that  they  are  well  forward.      Most  amateurs,  and  not  a  few  pro- 


I  lino  to  Mount  a  Bini. 


«45 


ffssioiKils,  hrint;  ;i  bird's  knees  altoijetlier  too  near  his  tail,  the  result 
ln;in^r  a  very  awkward  lookinj^-  ereature.  As  a  rule,  a  iiird's  hei-is 
come?  ahout  opposite  the  base  of  the  tail.  All  liirds  ot'  prey  have 
the  knees  v(!ry  free, — outside  the  body,  as  it  were, —  while  just  the 
reverse  is  triK-  of"  swimmers  and  divers,      {{end  the  lej^s  backward, 


.sec  that  they  are  of  the  same  ieiiij^th,  am!  adjust  the  feathers  a  little. 
With  the  long  forceps  and  pushers,  work  some  finely  cut  tow  smoothly 
around  the  base  of  the  skull  and  top  of  the  neck.  I  have  never  .seen 
this  advised,  and  yet  it  is  a  very  necessary  proceeding  in  order  to 
secure  the  best  results,  it  is  of  special  importance  in  mounting  owls, 
in  order  to  impart  that  roundness  of  the  head  so  characteristic  of 
those  birds.  You  may  als(j  put  a  little  filling  in  the  upper  throat. 
Turn  the  bird  face  downward,  and  with  tlie  thumb  and  finger  lift  up 
and  work  together  the  skin  on  the  upper  part  of  the  shoulders  and 
lower  part  of  the  neck,  at  the  same  time  working  the  wings  toward 
each  other.  It  is  well  to  repeat  this  operation  from  time  to  time, 
as  a  little  attention  here  does  much  to  prcnc.-nt  the  i)are  spots  on  the 
sides  of  the  neck  from  showing  in  the  t'lnishetl  specimen.  Benil  a 
sharp-pointed  wire  into  a  T-shape,  the  point  being  on  tin;  upright 
portion,  and  run  it  through  the  base  of  the  tail,  just  below  the  cen- 
tral feathers  and  well  into  the  body.  In  doing  this,  Ik:  careful  not  to 
get  the  wire  between  the  feathers  ;  for  if  you  do,  nothing  can  induce 
the  tail  to  spread  evenly.     In  a  living  bird,  the  tail  feathers  are  moved 


I 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


V 


V.A 


1.0 


I.I 


22 

1.8 


1.25      1.4 

1.6 

.« 6"     — 

► 

Kiotographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


V 


4^ 


^ 


Ll>' 


c\ 


\ 


<v 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

(716)  B73-4S03 


4x 


"%" 


^>^~ 


•"^j^ 


Si 


.1 


m 


846 


HoTC'  to  Mount  a  Bird. 


IIKAI)    OF    SAI<;.\. 


together,  no  one  more  than  another ;  and  it  must  be  your  aim  to 
secure  this  beautiful  uniformity.  Now  begin  at  the  lower  part  of  the 
opening  and  sew  up  the  cut,  inserting  a  little  filling — cut  tow — from 
time  to  time  in  such  places  as  may  want  it.  You  will  very  likely 
need  some  arouni!  the  base  of  the  tail,  and  assuredly  some  around 
and  above  the  knees,  to  imitate  the  thighs  and  join  the  legs  smoothly 
to  the  body.  Possibly  there  will  be  some  wanted  on  the  breast ; 
although  tiiis  will  not  be  the  case  if  you  have  made  the  body  cor- 
rectly. Do  not  be  surprised  if  in  sewing  up  the  opening  you  cannot 
(|uite  make  the  edges  of  the  cut  meet.  The  skin — especially  of  thin- 
skinned  birds — dries  and  shrinks  here  very  rapidly,  and  nature  has 
kindly  provided  l)irds  with  feathers  which  conceal  many  of  the  short- 
comings of  the  taxidermist.  Hut  in  ducks  and  other  birds  with  thick 
skins  anil  short,  dense;  feathers  you  must  make  both  sides  meet. 
Apparently,  the  bird  is  now  nearly  finished,  but  in  reality  it  is  very  far 


r 


How  to  Mount  a  Bird. 


847 


from  completion.  Your  bird  may  he  well  vvirctl.  correctly  put 
together,  and  smoothly  filled,  but  if  it  is  not  placed  in  a  proper 
attitude,  all  goes  for  naught.  True,  very  much  depends  on  all  this 
preliminary  work,  and  it  needs  to  be 
thoroughly  well  done  in  order  to  make 
the  mounted  bird  a  success;  but  from 
now  onward,  every  touch  tells. 

Uress  the  feathers  a  little  with  your 
small  forceps,  catching  them  low  down, 
raising  them  and  letting  them  fall  into 
place,  or  pulling  them  gently  into  posi- 
tion here  and  there  as  occasion  may 
demand.  Adjust  the  legs,  bringing  the 
heels  a  little  nearer  together  than  are 
the  knees,  while  at  the  same  time  you 
put  them  at  the  proper  distance  from  the 
body.  In  ordinary  positions  of  perching 
birds,  very  little  of  the  leg  shows  above 
the  heel,  while  the  heels  themselves  are 
brought  near  the  body.  The  reverse  of 
this  is  true  in  running  and  wading  birds. 
A  great  deal,  too,  depends  on  having 
the  proper  angle  between  the  tibia  and 
tarsus,  and  you  will  soon  discover  that 
there  is  much  power  of  expression  in  a 
bird's  fee.t  and  legs.  A  very  common 
mistake  is  that  of  making  small  birds  stand  too  upright.  Notice 
the  sparrows  as  they  hop  about  the  street,  or  observe  your  jjet 
canary,  and  you  will  see  how  a  bird's  legs  should  be  placed.  In 
parrots,  the  heel  is  usually  below  the  line  of  the  foot ;  and  the  owl 
shows  his  relationship  with  the  parrot  by  bringing  his  heels  so  far 
backward  and  downward  that  only  the  feet  project  beyond  the  long, 
fluffy  feathers  of  the  breast.  .Many  swimming  birds,  on  the  con- 
trary, hold  their  legs  almost  as  straight  as  sticks,  the  gull  being  an 
extreme  case.  When  you  are  in  doubt  regarding  a  given  point, 
consult  a  living  bird  and  you  will  get  much  valuable  information, 
not  seldom  some  that  is  quite  at  variance  with  your  pet  theories. 
Having  placed  the  feet,  it  is  time  to  transfer  the  bird  to  a  temporary 


A    SOUTH    AMERICAN    MONKEY. 


;i  I 


% 


!)>' 
.(.' 


848 


How  to  Mount  a  Bird. 


perch  ;  and  be  sure  that  the  base  to  this  is  solid,  and  that  the  cross- 
bar is  securely  nailed  on,  so  that  you  may  twist  your  bird  about 
without  pulling  your  jjerch  to  pieces  or  tipping  it  over.  If  on  stand- 
inj^  the  bird  upright  you  find  that  the  back  is  not  round  enough,  or 
the  breast  too  flat,  or  that  you  have  omitted  to  put  any  filling  in  the 


Till-;    HKI.I,    BIRD,    OR    rAMl'ANEKi'. 


i'l 


sides, — and  these  mistakes  fi-equently  occur, — now  is  the  time  to 
remedy  the  deficiency.  Make  an  incision,  lengthwise  of  the  body, 
under  the  wing,  and  with  your  little  pushers  introduce  enough  cut 
tow  to  fill  the  vacancy.  :\t  first  the  pushers  will  go  awry  and  the 
tow  roll  into  balls  or  work  into  the  wrong  place ;  but  draw  liberally 
on  your  stock  of  patience,  and  with  a  little  practice  all  will  go  well.  It 
is  usually  unnecessary  to  sew  up  the  cut  under  the  wing,  as  it  is  cpiite 
hidden ;  but  if  the  bird  be  a  good-sized  one.  a  stitch  or  two  may  not 
be  amiss.  Hearing  in  mind  the  fact  that  a  bird's  neck  is  not  straight, 
but  a  double  curve  like  the  letter  S,  you  imitate  this  shape  as  follows: 
Bend  the  head  and  neck  forward,  and  grasp  the  l)ird  by  the  liack  with 
your  left  hand,  the  tip  of  the  forefinger  resting  against  the  base  of  the 
neck.      With  the  right  hand  press  the  head  and  upper  neck   back- 


How  to  Mount  a  Bint. 


849 


cross- 
about 
stand - 
ugh,  or 
in  the 


y 


GDI.DKN     KAGI.i;. 


\e  time  to 
the  body, 
nough  cut 
■y  and  the 
w  liljerally 
ro  well.    It 
s  it  is  qviite 
/()  may  not 
ot  straight, 
as  follows: 
-back  with 
base  of  the 
neck  back- 


ward, and  the  lower  curve  is  made,  in  sha|)ing  tiie  upper  part  of 
the'  neck,  the  mistake  is  frequently  maile  of  crooking  the  neck  itself 
too  much,  whereas  it  should  be  curved  but  little,  thi-  effect  being 
produced  by  bending  the  head  sharply  downward.  If  thesi-  instruc- 
tions seem  somewhat  proli.x,  believe  me  they  are  not  too  much  so, 
for  a  common  fault  of  works  in  ta.xidermy  is  that  they  are  ikhcient 
in  detail  and  fail  to  draw  attention  to  the  little  ])oints  whereon 
hinges  the  success  of  the  completed  work.  Now  see  if  the  eyes  are 
in  the  same  plane,  and  not  one  higher  than  the  other,  ami  look  to  it 
that  the  center  of  gravity  is  all  right.  \'our  bird  should  look  as  if 
he  were  resting  on  perch  or  peilestal,  and  not  as  it  lu-  would  pitch 
forward  were  the  wires  removed.  Having  settleil  tiiese  two  points 
satisfactorily,  proceed  with  the  wings,  tlie  lirst  step  being  to  get  their 
tips  even.  Living  birds  often  carry  tiieir  wings  in  a  very  slovenly 
manner,  but  they  rarely  have  their  tips  out  of  line.  The  fretpiency 
with  which  one  wing  will  insist  on  coming  out  wrong  is  more 
remarkable  than  amusing  ;  and  it  occasionally  recjuires  the  outlay  of 
54 


l»f 


a 


'«■'  »■ 


850 


Nma  to  Mount  a  Bint. 


considerable  time  to  induce  them  to  look  equally  well.  The  scapu- 
laries,  or  feathers  on  the  shoulders,  are  often  troublesome  and  require 
coaxing  into  place.  \  very  handy  tool  for  this  purpose  is  a  darning- 
needle  fastened  in  a  short  handle,  or  you  may  sharpen  one  end  of 
your  knitting-needle. 


A    I.ITTLK    STRANGER     FROM    TIIK    TROl'ICS. 


fi'i; 


This  you  thrust  into  the  roots  of  the  feathers,  and  with  a  com- 
bined lifting  and  twisting  motion  bring  them  where  they  belong. 
Trouble  with  the  scapularies  often  arises  from  one  of  two  causes,  which 
I  mention  in  order  that  )ou  may  guard  against  them.  The  first  is 
too  much  filling  in  the  back,  or  between  the  wing  bones  and  the  skin. 
The  second  is  filling  worked  into  and  distending  the  bare  spot  that 
runs  from  the  sides  of  the  neck  down  over  the  wings.  The  wings 
are  secured  to  the  body  with  from  one  to  three  wires,  according  to 
the  size  of  the  bird  and  tiie  amount  of  pains  you  wish  to  take.  The 
first  wire — and  this  is  never  omitted — runs  slightly  downward  and 
backward  through  the  wrist  or  bend  of  the  wing;  the  second  is  in- 
serted between  the  bones  of  the  fore-arm  near  the  elbow,  and  points 
forward  ;  while  the  third  you  enter  near  the  tuft  of  feathers  known  as 
the  spurious  wing,  and  direct  upward.  Heware  of  running  a  wire 
between  the  roots  of  the  primaries;  for  if  they  are  thus  wedged  apart, 
nothing  but  changing  the  wire  will  induce  them  to  lie  as  they  should. 
Next  arrange  the  tail  feathers,  which  may  be  done  in  several  ways, 
the  easiest  and  least  satisfactory  of  which  is  to  reverse  the  manner 


»!.-• 


Wi 


Hmc  to  Mount  a  Bint. 


851 


A    KAMII.Y    OK    sCKEF.ril    nWI.S. 


in  which  they  naturally  He,  so  that  they  hip  under  from  the  outer- 
most feather.  The  Ijest  phin  is  to  place  a  piece  of  cardboard  al)ove 
and  another  In-low  the  tail,  and  secure  them  tij^htly  toj^ether  with 
pins,  thus  holdinj^  every  feather  securely,  l^'or  very  larj^e  birds  with 
widespread  tails  it  will  be  necessary  to  run  a  wire  throui^h  all  the 
quills  near  the  basi;  of  tht;  tail  —  a  teilious  and  a<j^}rravatinjf  oper- 
ation, but  one  which  is  sure  to  hoUI.  Whichever  plan  is  adopted, 
remember  what  was  said  previously  —  tiiat  the  feathers  of  the  tail  are 
always  equidistant.  Insert  a  little  fillinif  in  the  upper  jiart  of  tht; 
throat  if  it  needs  it,  but  be  can^ful  not  to  j^et  too  much  there,  which, 
by  the  wav,  is  a  ver\  common  fault.  Tie  the  bill  toj^ether  by  run- 
ning; a  thread  throuijh  the  nostrils  and  around  the  lower  manilible, 
or  run  a  pin  into  the  skull  from  i)elow  in  such  manner  as  to  secure  it. 
.\nd  now,  after  a  careful  inspection  and  final  dressing  with  the  lis^ht 
forceps,  the  bird  is  ready  to  be  wounil ;  and  on  the  manner  in  which 
this  is  done  depends  much  of  the  bird's  smoothness  and  general  good 
looks.      If  the  winding  is  slovenly  and  candess,  it  will  undo  a  great 


852 


How  to  Mount  a  Bird. 


nw 


iitv,,   ^■■| 


BIKD,    WKAI'I'KD. 


(lc!al  of  previous  j^rood  work ;  if  neat  ami  careful,  it  will  jjfroatly 
enhance  it.  Place  small,  s()uare  pieces  of  [)aper  over  the  wires  which 
fasten  the  win.tjs,  and  make  ready  from  six  to  ten  lonj^  pins  or  sharp- 
ened wires.  If  pins  are  used,  tie  a  bit  of  coarse,  waxed  thread 
around  them  about  a  quarter  of  an  inch  below  the  heads,  and  leave 
the  ends  stickiny^  out  for  about  the  same  ilistance.  If  wires  are  used, 
bend  the  unshar|)ened  end  into  a  U  shape.  Place  from  three  to  five 
wires  in  line  alont^  the  back  and  as  many  more  alon}^  the  breast,  and 
use  soft,  lijj;ht  thread  for  winding.  Begin  by  making  a  few  turns 
quite  around  the  bird  in  order  to  secure  all  feathers,  and  then  pro- 
ceed systematically,  first  with  one  wing  then  with  the  other,  then 
with  the  back  and  breast.  Let  th<  threatl  lie  lightly  on  such  places 
as  are  smooth  and  in  place,  and  gentl)'  press  ilown  any  spots  which 
are  too  high.  Never  try  to  produce  a  depression  by  a  single  turn  of 
the  thread,  but  use  several  at  minute  intervals.  The  use  of  the  bend 
in  the  wires  and  the  thread  around  the  pins  is  this :  it  keeps  the 
thread  from  touching  the  plumage  where  pressure  would  be  injuri- 
ous. Thus,  by  winding  around  and  back  from  the  upper  series  of 
wires,  )ou  can  secure  the  breast  anil  sides  without  bearing  down  any 
of  the  feathers  on  the  back,  and  vice  versa.  I  have  dwelt  at  length 
on  this  winding  process,  because  there  are  but  few  who  seem  to 
realize  its  importance  or  go  about  it  in  a  systematic  manner.* 

•  It  is  but  just  that  credit  should  l)e  given  to  Mr.  I'.  S.  Webster  for  this  method 
of  winding,  a  still  more  detailed  account  of  which,  written  by  him,  appeared  in  the 
Report  of  the  Society  of  American  Taxidc-^ists  for  1881-82. 


m 


I  line  to  Moil  It  t  (I  Bint 


853 


Do  not  put  in  the  i;yi's  iinlil  tlic  liird  is  tlioroiij^^lily  ilry,  tlu!  reason 
for  this  In-injf  that  you  run  tlic  risk  iii  dislurhin^r  il„.  fiialhcrs  of  the 
fresh  skin  in  scttinj^f  th«  in.  or  thai  the  shrinka^M-  of  thi-  skin  may 
leave  th(!m  i)ulj,Mnj^  out  of  their  sockets.  .\  httle  cotton  nioistencti 
in  warm  water  and  phiced  in  the  orhits  will  soon  relax  them.  Imheil 
the  eyes  in  |)Utt>',  or  stick  duMn  in  with  mucila}.,fe.  the  former  nuthod 
beinj,'  my  own  preference.  Press  them  well  in,  and  with  the  point 
of  a  needle  carefully  adjust  the  eyeliils.  if  the  eyelid  has  Income 
stretched,  catch  it  up  with  a  fuie  ihrad  hehinti  the  eye.  Now  i:\\\.  off 
the  wrappinJ,^  pull  out  iht;  wires  in  th(  hack  and  hnast,  and  cut  off 
those  in  tlu;  head,  tail,  and  win;,fs,  and  your  spicinmn  is  ready  to 
transfer  to  its  final  support.  This  may  he  a  neatly  turned  stand, — 
a  twiij  fasleneil  to  a  nirat  base  or  p  ad«-  to  hanj.f  aj^ainst  tlu-  wall,  or 
a  section  t)f  a  tree-trunk.  ( inarleil  anti  water-worn  roots  form  e.\- 
ce'llent  peilestals  for  owls,  ilucks,  and  herons.  Kou|L,di  cork,  just  as  it 
conies  off  the-  tree,  makes  excellent  rock  work,  with  the  aildition  of  a 
little  paint  and  a  few  lichens.  Of  course  you  will  wish  to  make  somi- 
).froups  f)f  hirds,  hut  when  you  do  so.  strive  to  avoid  a  mere  h(;tero- 
jreneous  .lratherinJ,^  and  (!nd(;avor  to  hnd  some  excuse  for  callin-,-^  the 
hirds  tojrcther.  or  to  make  a  jjfroup  that  shall  form  a  harmonious 
picture  :  and  in  c;very  cas«!  try  to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  hird  as  well 
as  its  outward  aspect. 


54A 


iu)\\-sii()()  riN(;. 

Ilv     MM   Kl(  I.     rilO.MI'SON, 

AIM'IKIK  01-     •  TIIK    WIKIIKKV   '<[■■   AKCIIKKV,'     Klf, 


H 


:!  } 


(I. 


MANY  nations  and  trilus  of  men  have  l)ci:n  famous  for  their 
archery.  'I"he  Parthians,  Carchichians,  Scythians,  and  Per- 
sians are  mentioned  by  the  old  writers  as  mij^hty  bowmen. 
Some  of  the  .\merican  Indians  are  very  e.xpert,  thoiij^jii  l)y  no 
means  jrracefui  or  powerful  archers.  Much  has  been  spoken  anil 
printed  of  the  wonderful  effect  of  Inilian  arrows  at  long  range.  It 
is  all  imagination.  The  best  Sioux.  Navajo,  or  Comanche  archer 
would  rarely  be  able  to  liit  a  man  at  eighty  yards.  Hut  the  yeomen 
of  "  Merrie  I\ngland(;"  were  the  world's  most  excellent  archers.  No 
doubt  they,  too,  have  been  favorably  misrepresented  by  loving  his- 
torians. We  should  not  be  slow  to  forgive  those  who  doubt  the 
difficult  feats  in  the  story  of  Robin  Hood,  lie  never  did  hit  a  willow 
wand  three  hundred  or  two  hundred  yards,  three  sliots  in  succession; 
nevertheless,  those:  Ijowmen  who  followed  the  old  lords  of  England  in 
the  days  of  Crecy  and  .Agincourt,  and  I'lodden  I'ield  and  Hannock- 
burn  and  Neville's  Cross,  were  crack  shots,  and  sent  their  shafts  with 
such  force  that  it  took  the  bi;st  Spanish  mail  to  withstand  them.  No 
doubt  Robin  Hood  performed  a  good  deal  of  fancy  shooting;  but 
that  he  "told"  every  rivet  ami  joint  of  a  knight's  armor  at  long 
range  with  his  arrow-|)oints  is  a  pretty  tough  story  for  an  archer  to 
believe.  I'^or  one,  however,  I  gladly  accept  the  stories  of  Robin's 
poaching  proclivities,  ami  the  great  havoc  he  made  with  the  game 
wherever  he  chose  to  hunt. 

Taking  wild  game  has  nearly  ceased  to  be  reckonetl  among  the 
means  of  gaining  a  livelihood,  and  has  fallen,  or  risen,  as  one  may 
view   it,  to  the   level   of  a  sport  or   means  of  recreation   from  the 


Fi(m>- Shooting. 


855 


exliaustion  ami  ilcpressioii  conscciiH-nt   to   tlu;   civili/.L-cl  iiu:tluKls  oi 
sclf-iU'slriiction  culled  business. 

1  wish  by  this  papi-r  tt>  show  that  if  the  lonj^r-how  were  adopted 
as  the  sportiiij^f  weapon  of  the  worKI,  j,'aine  would  increase  every- 
wiiere,  while  expert  sportsmen  would  _i;el  all  that  they  could  desire 
from  their  favorite  pastime,  as  rej^Mrds  both  mental  and  physical 
recreation  and  a  j^foodly  weight  in  the  jfame-bajf.  I  speak  con- 
lidently  on  this  subject,  having  fifteen  years  of  happy  expi!ri«tnce  in 
archery  to  draw  from. 

I  was  yvx  in  my  teens  when  I  was  laiight  the  use  of  the  long-bow 
by  Thomas  Williams,  a  sort  of  hermit,  whose  cabin  stooil  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  pine  forest  that  bordered  m\  father's  plantation  in  the 
beautiful  Cherokee  country  of  North  Georgia.  My  brother  and  I 
had,  in  a  boyish  way,  been  practicing  arclur)  for  some  \(ars  before 
Williams  gavi;  us  lessons;  but,  though  \\v  had  of  our  own  »;fforts  be- 
come expert  in  the  making  and  use  of  our  weapons,  \\v  found,  to  our 
chagrin,  that  before  we  could  dare  call  ourselves  bowmen  all  we  had 
learned  must  go  for  naught,  and  an  art  must  be  mastered,  the  difficul- 
ties of  which  at  first  seemed  insurmountable.  Williams  was  a  better 
archer  than  either  of  us  can  ever  hope  to  be;  but  he  was  ashamed 
for  any  man  to  see  him  out  with  his  bow  and  (juiver. 

liefore  entering  upon  the  subject  of  using  the  bow  and  arrows, 
let  us  examine  the  weapons  and  their  necessary  accompaniments,  so 
that  we  may  clearly  understand  the  few  technicalities  connected  with 
a  discussion  of  archery. 

iMgure  1  of  the  diagram  on  the  opposite  page  is  a  good  representa- 
tion of  a  long-bow  after  the  best  English  model.  It  is  six  feet  from 
tip  to  tip,  as  it  lies  unstrung,  and  is  made  of  lemon-wood,  lance-wood, 
or  yew.  Figure  2  shows  the  weapon  strung  ready  for  ust;.  which 
shortens  it  three  or  three  and  a  half  inches.  This  bow  is  the  kind  I 
have  used  for  years.  It  has  a  plush  handle  and  horn  nock-tips.  Its 
wood  is  yellow  as  gold,  straight-grained,  wax)'  in  appearand-,  heavy, 
springy  as  steel  and  flexible  as  whalebone.  It  was  made  by  Philip 
Highfield,  London.  The  string  is  of  the  best  white  hemp,  slack 
twisted,  stiffly  waxed,  and  whipped  with  silk  at  the  ends  and  middle. 
By  referring  to  the  detail  drawings  anil  examining  the  cro.ss-section 
and  representation  of  the  nocks  and  the  handle,  an\-  one  possessed 
of  ordinary  mechanical  skill  can,  from  a  well-seasoned  billet  of  common 


856 


H(m<-S/toofiiig. 


/ 


I 


mullu-rry  or  sassafras  wikkI,  make 
an  c\cclli-nt  Ik)w  with  whirl)  to 
hv^xn  prattiic. 

The  tw«»  arrows  rcprfsrntcd  in 
thi-  fij^iirc  arc  those  iisrd  for  hunting 
piirposrs.  Thf  l»i:sl  tarj^ct  arrows, 
for  usr  ill  the  j^fam*'  «>f  archt-ry.  an- 
for  sale  l)y  all  tlt-alcrs  in  sportiiij.; 
im|>l(Miu-nts.  (Ask  for  tin-  l)est 
f<»«»lctl,  wh<»lc  nock.  lliL,fhru'M  ar- 
rows, $c>.()<)  jur  (loztii.)  Uiit  your 
luintin^;;  arrows  cannot  l)f  priKiiml 
in  thr  market.  No  niannfadiinr 
makes  them.  N  <»ii  must  first  know 
what  \()u  want,  tlvn  stand  !))•  some 
j.joo(l  workman  till  he  has  satisfied 
you.  I'he  hariu'd  siiall  in  tln'  ilhis 
tration  I  have  made  as  follows: 
twcnty-eij^du  inches  lonj.,'.  of  hickory, 
perfectly  strai>;ht,  even,  am!  smooth, 
a  little  less  than  one-thiril  of  an  inch 
in  diameter,  well-seasoned  and  oiled. 
The  thin.  Hat,  harheil  head  is  s«t 
in  a  slit  sawed  for  it,  and  fastened 
by  fine  l)rass  wire,  as  shown  in 
the  detail  drawin,i,rs  on  the  next 
paj,'c 

important  ami  ilifficult  \.\\'\n^  to  ac- 
complish, and  upon  this  ili-pends  lar!.fe!y  the  valui-  of  y()ur  arrow,  .\fter 
you  have  s(!t  the  lu^ad  in  om-  end  of  your  shaft  and  cut  a  deep,  safe 
nock  in  the  other,  i,dui"  three  strips  of  feather  on,  three  inches  from 
the  nock  and  four  inches  lonj.^,  runnint.(  toward  the  head,  so  arrani^ed 
as  to  stand  at  an  anijle  of  one  lunulred  and  twenty  tlej^rees  to  one 
another,  anil  sli>,ditly  spiral,  so  as  to  give  a  tiirninj^r  motion  to  the 
arrow  as  it  flies.  The  hlunt  arrows  used  for  shootinj^  small  >rame, 
and  wild-wood  birtis  not  }.(ame,  of  the  size  of  a  pheasant,  or  smaller, 
are  made  precisely  as  above,  exceptin<Lj  that  a  ferrule  of  pewter  or 
harder  metal  is  substituted  for  the  barbed  point.      The  shaft  must  be 


,,,,  ....  I    liinv   (INM  liiNf.) ;  J    now   (sTMiM,!: 

I  lie    leatlierniLT    IS    a     most  vihuhkh  xnmiw.  1  in  1  m  vkkow;  5.  miuhk 

\\h   III  I  I      ii    i.\  Mill. 


1 1 


'Mv 


BiW' Shooting. 


857 


A    Si'<liim  ..f  II..W.    //    ll.iiKlli'  c.(  II.. »  .    I  .    '\rrM»   mchI. 

/'    Srctioh  i.f   Arrnw  ihrnnuli  ri-jlhi-r.     A     Mn-I  liciii 

h'    Slit  in  sli.ifi  (<■  ti-ii\r  h<  .III ;   f.     Mrjil  wiit-fl  oil 


fxactly  slrai^lit,  smooth,  and  (.•v»n. 
as  alrraily  statr<l.  Tlu.'  sli^rhtt-st 
iiu:(|iiality  or  crook  will  spoil  th«' 
liiaiKH-  «)f  acciiraU-  sl-iootiiij^;.  A 
j,fooil  (jiiivor  is  made  of  stiff  har 
ncss  U-athcr,  rirfiiiar.  llirrt-  and  a 
half  inrhcs  in  dianu'ttT,  t'ij^dut-cn 
inches  dcc|>,  and  dccorutcd  to  suit 
your  fancy.  It  is  worn  atlaciu-d 
t()  a  l)rlt  passinjf  around  the  waist 
or  slunj^j  dia}.,M)nally  to  the  shoul 

der.    Shootinj,'-jj;i«)ves  I  never  use.  and  cannot  ri-ctuninend.    A  hrace, 

or  wrist- j^juard,  may  or  may  not  !»e  necessary,  accordinj.;  to  the  con 

formation  of  iIk-  joints.      It  is  a  stiff  pii-ce  of  smooth  leather  curved 

to  fit  over  the  li-fi  (ore-arm  and  wrist,  and  maile  lo  f.isti-n  with  elastic 

straps,  as  shown  in  I'ij^^ure  6. 

Now,  l«)  string    your  how.      ()l)serve,  first,  that   the   handle   is  a 

little  nt;arer  to  one   nock   than  to  the  other.      TIk;  lonjrer  <-y\(\  of  tlu: 

how  is  the  uppt.-r  one  in  shooting.       i  o  string  the  weapon,  fasten  the 

cord  well  in  the  lower  enil  nock,  so  that  the  loop  made  at  the  other 

end  of  the  cord  shall  pass  around 

the    bow    about    three    or    four 

inches,  or  li?ss,  from    the  upper 

nock.  —  the  variation  in  this  dis- 
tance to  rej.julate  the  amount  of 

tension.      Now,  place  the  lower 

end  of   the  bow  in  the   hollow 

of  your  ri^ht  foot  planted  firmly 

on  the  j^round  :  clasp  the  handlif 

of  your  weapon  with  your  rij.,du 

hanil ;  place  the  h{;el  of  your  left 

palm  on  the  iippc-r  end  and  back 

of  the  bow,  just  Ih;Iow  thestrinjr- 

loop;  tiraw  the  bow  tow  aril  you 

with  your  rijj^ht  ami  push  it  from 

you  with  your  left  haml.     This 

will  bend    the  bow.      Now   slip 

the  loop  up  into  the  nock  with 

'  «  SIHINlMNi;     IIIE    BOW. 


858 


Bow -Shooting. 


the  thumb  and  forcfinjfer  of  tho 
left  hand.  Your  Ijow  is  strung;, 
and  the  cord  stands  about  five 
or  six  inches  from  the  handle. 
The  accompanying  cut  shows  the 
archer  in  the  act  of  shootinjf. 
The  arrow  rests  on  the  left  hanil, 
and  is  drawn  to  the  head.  The 
nock  end  of  the  shaft  is  held  be- 
tween the  first  and  second  fin- 
gers of  the  right  hand  and  upon 
the  string,  wiiich  is  drawn  to  the 
right  ear  b)'  all  the  fingers  being 
hooked  stiffly  over  it.  The  re- 
lease must  be  smart  and  clear, 
giving  the  arrow  a  strong,  even 
flight. 

.Archery  as  a  game  needs  but 
few  words  of  description.  Two 
targets  of  straw,  faced  with  cai'- 
vas,  upon  which  are  painted  four 
concentric  rings  and  a  bull's-eye, 
are  placed  at  any  tiesired  dis- 
tance apart,  facing  each  other. 
The  competing  archers  stand  by 
one  target  and  shoot  three  arrows  each  at  the  other  target,  then  walk 
forward  and  reverse  the  direction  of  their  shots.  Hy  this  method 
the  e.xercise  of  shooting  is  combined  with  that  of  walking.  The 
score  is  kept  as  follows :  bull's-eye,  9  ;  first  ring,  7  ;  second  ring,  5  ; 
third  ring,  3;  fourth,  or  outermost  ring,  i. 

Archery  clubs  of  from  seven  to  fifteen  members,  both  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  could  be  formed  all  over  the  country  more  easily,  at  less 
expense,  and  with  far  better  results  than  cricket,  croquet,  or  base- 
ball clubs.  The  rules  governing  such  organizations  should  be  few 
and  simple,  not  unlike  those  of  rifle  clubs.  Prizes  could  be  offered 
and  medals  of  championship  adopted.  Once  brought  into  public 
notice  and  fairly  established,  no  sport  or  game  would  be  half  so 
popular  or  permanent.      It  has  in   it  all   the  elements  of  desirable 


DKAWINli     I'HK     HOW. 


Bow -Shooting. 


859 


pastime  and  recreation.  The  physical  exercise  is  b(!tter  than  fencinj^. 
boxinK^  or  I'ftinjr;  it  has  every  feature  of  an  excitinij  competitive 
game,  is  attended  with  no  danger,  and  "shows  off"  the  human  form 
to  the  very  best  advantage.— all  its  poses  being  those  of  grace,  ease, 
and  power  combined, 

I'Vom  the  earliest  days  of  successful  archery  in  Kngland,  green 
has  been  the  bowman's  favorite  color,  and  all  his  metal  decorations 
have  been  of  silver.  Clubs  have,  therefore,  generally  chosen  a 
uniform  in  which  leaf  green  is  the  prevailing  color,  and  their  badges 
and  medals  have  been  wrought  of  silver.— a  ring,  a  crescent,  or  a 
richly  chased  arrow  being  the  commonest  device. 

In  giving  directions  how  to  shoot.  1  cannot  hope  to  improve  on 
the  simple  language  of  the  old  disciple  of  the  bow.  Roger  Ascham. 
who,  in  1545,  wrote  a  little  book  on  the  subject  of  archery,  entitled 
"  Toxophilus,"  in  which  he  says: 

"  The  first  point  is,  whun  a  man  should  shoot,  to  take  such  footing  and  standing  as 
shall  be  i)oth  comely  to  the  eye  an.l  proritable  to  his  use,  setting  his"  countenance  and 
all  other  parts  of  his  l.ody  after  such  a  behavior  and  j.ort,  that  both  all  his  strengtii 
may  be  employed  to  his  own  most  advantage  and  his  shot  made  and  handled  to  other 
men's  pleasure  and  .lelight.  A  man  must  not  go  too  hastily  to  it,  for  that  is  rasiiness, 
nor  yet  make  to,,  much  to  do  about  it.  for  that  is  curiosity  ;  the  one  foot  must  not 
stand  too  lar  from  the  other,  lest  he  stoop  to.,  much.  whi(  h  is  unseemly,  nor  yet  too  near 
together,  lest  he  stand  too  straight  up,  for  so  a  man  siuill  neither  use  his  strength  well 
nor  yet  stand  steadfastly.  The  mean  betwixt  both  must  be  kept,  a  thing  more  pleasant 
to  behold  when  it  is  <lone.  than  easy  to  be  taught  how  it  should  he  done." 

A  httic  care  at  hrst  will  save  you  a  great  deal  of  trouble  and 
annoyance.  When  you  begin  to  shoot,  leai.i  at  once  to  stand  tirmly 
on  your  feet,  the  left  slighdy  advanced,  the  head  easily  poised,  the 
upper  portion  of  the  body  gently  inclined  forward,  and  the  shoulders 
neither  lifted  nor  drooped.  Hold  the  bow  vertically  with  the  left 
hand,  the  arm  extemled  straight.  Nock  the  arrow  well  on  the  string, 
draw  with  all  the  fingers  of  your  right  hand,  till  you  feel  your  riglu 
ear,  fix  your  eyes  steadily  on  the  target,  and  let  fly.  The'  shaft  will 
sing  through  the  air  with  a  .sound  peculiarly  musical,  and  hit  with  a 
force  that  will  surprise  you.  even  though  at  first  you  u.se  a  bow  of  but 
forty  pounds'  weight,  /.  .-..  one  which  recpiires  a  draft  of  but  forty 
pounds  to  draw  a  28-inch  arrow  to  the  head. 

Forty  yards  from  target  to  target   is  a  long  enough    range  to 
begin  practice  with,  and  it  might  well  be  not  over  half  that  length. 


'    1 


86o 


Bmo -Shooting. 


In  fact,  though  many  of  the  Kng- 
lish  cKibs  scorn  to  shoot  less  than 
a  hundred  yards,  my  experience 
t^oes  that  fifty  or  sixty  paces 
measure  al);)ut  tht:  longest  cer- 
tain range  for  the  average  archer, 
using  a  bow  of  not  over  fifty-five 
pounds'  weight.  I'ew  ladies  are 
able  to  use  a  bow  stronger  than 
thirty-five  or  forty  pounils,  and  it 
re(iuires  a  man  of  the  strongest 
muscle  to  draw  a  ninety-pound 
one.  1  recommend  a  bow  under 
rather  than  over  your  strength, 
for  accurate,  easy  shooting. 

If  you  begin  your  practice  for 
the  j)urpose  of  learning  to  shoot 
wild  game  by  "  field  and  flood," 
you  must  not  usi-  a  target  at  all. 
( )ne  who  is  trained  to  aim  at  a 
l.u'ge,  grailualed  target,  either 
with  gun  or  bow,  can  rarely 
shoot  well  at  game.     The  reason  ^'^"'"  ""■" 

is  that  in  targit  shooting  at  a  fixed  distance  he  gets  used  to  a  certain 
size,  color,  and  condition  of  iuukQiviiint  and  when  he  gets  into  the 
woods  and  lilts  his  bow  to  draw  on  a  bird  or  a  hare,  his  accustomed 
rings  and  dark  background  are  not  there.  His  vision  is  i^lurred,  he 
draws  waveringK ,  and  shoots  indifferently.  .\  black  rubber  ball  four 
inciies  in  iliameter.  suspended  in  mid-air  by  a  string  fastened  to  the 
low  limb  of  an  apple-trei',  makes  a  first-nite  substitute  for  a  bird,  and 
a  small  bag  of  straw,  placed  fiat  on  the  grounil  and  shot  at  at  about 
twenty-five  yards,  makes  good  hare  |)ractice.  Vou  will  soon  iearn 
the  great  advantage  of  not  using  the  same  distance  all  the  time,  as  in 
the  game  of  archery. 

^'our  first  practice  on  wild  diings  should  be  carefiilly  done,  choos- 
ing the  tamest  and  least  wary  of  birds  v.  order  that  you  may  make 
short  shots  and  observe  how  near  you  come  to  hitting  your  mark. 
You  must  not  think  of  game  till  you  have  shown   ycnir  abilit\  to  hit 


Boii>-Shoofnig. 


86 1 


A    finOI)    TARI.KT. 


;i  woodpecker  or  meadow-lark  at  twenty  paces  —  not  every  shot,  nor 
once  in  live,  or  in  twenty,  cveii  ;  hut  \()ii  must  j^et  well  used  to  shoot- 
int;"  at  thesi;  hinls  and  to  liittint;  one  occasionally  hefore  you  can 
approach  a  hare  or  a  (|uail  with  any  det^ree  of  calmness.  \'ou  need 
not  fear  that  woodpecker-shootiniL,^  will  prove  poor  sport.  Some  of 
my  hajipiest  houts  in  the  woods  have;  owed  all  their  charm  to  the 
e.\citement  of  chasini^  an  ivory-i)ill.  a  red-head,  or  a  speckh.-d  "sa|)- 
sucker"  from  tree  to  tree,  whacking  awa\-  at  him  whenevi.-r  he;  i^mt 
still,  watchinjf  the  flij^rht  of  my  arrow  as  it  whisked  past  him  or  struck 
close  by  him  with  a  rinifinjr  rap  like  the  blow  of  a  hammer,  till  at  last 
I  plumped  him  over,  strintfinjr  him  half-way  down  my  shaft. 


862 


i:! 


f 


Bow -Shooting. 


m 


Three  things  an-  rwiuisiti-  to  bird-shootinjf  with  the  how.  I'irst, 
you  must  know  how  to  measure  distance  with  the  eye  accurately  and 
(|uickly  ;  secondly,  you  must  be  (|uick  and  noiseless  in  your  move- 
ments ;  thirilly,  you  must  draw  uniformly,  that  is,  put  the  same  power 
on  every  shot,  no  matter  how  near  or  far  the  bird  may  be.  When 
you  begin  to  shoot  in  the  wootls,  after  considerable  experience  and 
success  at  target  practice,  you  will  discover  that  to  be  a  good  shot  is 
not  the  half  of  what  it  takes  to  make  you  a  toleral)le  bird-slayer. 
Some  of  the  finest  shots  you  will  ever  make  will  be  misses,  and  some 
of  the  poorest  will  be  center  hits. 

You  will  never  be  a  good  shot  till  all  the  operations  of  archery  are 
performed  as  naturally  and  almost  as  involuntarily  as  your  breathing. 
A  meadow-lark  siiows  his  yellow  breast  in  a  bunch  of  clover  blos- 
soms thirty  yards  ahead  —  you  pause  instantly,  throw  up  your  bow 
<|uickly,  gracefully,  draw  an  arrow  to  the  head,  let  go  sharply  —  all 
with  as  little  effort  and  with  precisely  the  same  half  voluntary,  half 
mechanical  accuracy  with  which  you  take  so  many  steps  in  walking. 
Your  arrow  flies  with  a  keen  hiss  straight  to  the  mark  and  knocks 
the  bird  over  and  over  amid  a  cloud  of  gold  fi.-athers  and  clover 
leaves.  When  you  can  do  this  one  time  out  of  five,  you  may  begin  to 
call  yourself  an  archer  and  look  about  for  game.  Hut  even  then  I 
will  wager  you  a  good  bow  you  miss  your  first  hare,  though  you 
may  find  him  crouched  in  his  form  not  twenty  feet  from  your  nose. 
In  fact,  while  a  hare  is  a  good  large  target,  he  is  very  difficult  to  hit 
before  one  has  learned  by  experience  just  how  to  aim  at  him. 

In  still-hunting  you  will  generally  finil  him  in  his  form,  his  body 
and  neck  elongated,  his  ears  flat,  his  chin  resting  on  his  fore-feet ;  he 
is  fast  asleep  with  his  round  eyes  open.  He  looks  larger  by  half 
than  he  really  is,  which  is  apt  to  cause  you  to  aim  indifferently  and 
shoot  carelessly.  You  draw  with  great  deliberation  and  let  drive 
Whack  goes  your  arrow  through  the  grass  in  which  he  lies,  but  to 
your  utter  amazement  up  springs  the  frightened  hare  and  scuds  away 
like  a  bit  of  gray  paper  before  a  iTust  of  wind.  You  do  not  get  another 
.shot  at  him.  He  hunts  his  hole.  Upon  e.xamination  you  find  that 
you  have  overshot  him,  and  your  arrow  will  be  sticking  in  the  ground 
just  beyond  his  form,  and  slanting  back  across  it  toward  you.  This 
is  your  first  and  most  important  lesson  in  hare-.shooting.  Hereafter 
you  will  aim  low.     Yes,  too  low  entirely  ;  for  your  next  hare  gets 


Bim  -Shooting. 


863 


I'irst, 
cly  and 
-  niovc- 
j  power 

WIhmi 
lice  ami 
1  shot  is 
l-slayi-r. 
nd  some 

hery  are 
•eathing. 
/er  blos- 
,011  r  bow 
ply  —  all 
ary,  half 
walkinj;. 
id  knocks 
nd  clover 
J  begin  to 
Lzn  then  1 
pugh  you 
:our  nose, 
cult  to  hit 
m. 

his  body 
e-feet;  he 
er  by  half 
rently  and 
let  drive, 
ics,  but  to 
icuds  away 
ret  another 
I  find  that 
he  ground 
you.     This 
Hereafter 
hare  gets 


:»»C^'- 


ttllAI'    VI 11      .MMKI>    AT. 


WHIN     rill,     ARRilW 


M      IIIKKK. 


outofhis  form  before  you  see  him. 
ami  after  a  few  long,  lazy  bounds, 
s(|uats  oil  his  haunches  ;uid  waits 
for  you  to  shoot  at  him.  \'ou  aim 
low  anil  let  tly  and  have'  the 
chagrin  to  see  your  arrow  strike 
full  ten  feet  short  !  The  hari:  re- 
solves himself  into  an  ecstasy  of 
billowy  ami)ulation,  outrunning  the  other  by  several  seconds  on  llu; 
mile,  anil  you  are  left  pensively  leaning  on  your  bow,  longing  for  a 
shot-gun  !     The  third  time  is  the 

charm,  mayhap,  and  you  l)ovvl  ^  V'fc_\  ^J-^^..^^  '  '^•yCJi 
your  game  over  in  fine  stylt;.  .A 
week  or  two  of  daily  practice  in 
good  hare-cover  will  get  you  well 
up  toward  successkil  shooting  at 
this  game  ;  then  you  will  I)e  reaily 
for  quail  and  pheasant.  These  birds  are  so  similar  in  their  hal)its 
that  to  know  one  is  to  be  pretty  well  acquainted  with  the  other. 
You  hunt  them'  on  damp,  cloudy  ilays  with  a  very  small  dog,  to 
escape  which  they  fly  up  and  alight  on  the  lower  limbs  of  trees 
and  hedge  shrubs  or  the  stakes  of  worm  fences.  This  gives  you 
rare  sport,  and  shot  by  shot  you  knock  down  your  birds. 

Thus  you  gradually  advance  in  the  science  and  art  of  arch<Ty  till 
you  become  a  "crack  shot,"  able  to  niiftch  any  ordinary  rifleman  at 
forty  )ards.  I  can  now  leave  you  and  proceed  to  give  some  notes 
on  a  few  of  the  many  hunting-grounils  1  have  shot  ovit  with  the 
long-bow.  Hut  first  a  word  about  the  dress  of  a  wild-wooil  archer. 
Your  angler  has  his  .suit,  your  gunner  has  his;  why  may  not  the 
archer  affect  a  peculiar  garb?  Me  does.  It  consists  of  low-legged 
jack-boots,  corduroy  breeches,  a  green-checkeil  hickor\-  shirt,  and 
a  broad-brimmed,  light,  soft  felt  hat.  If  the  weather  is  chilly  or  cold, 
a  heavy  flannel  .shirt  may  be  worn  under  the  hickory,  or  a  close- 
fitting  jacket  may  be  put  on  over  il.  The  main  object  is  to  keep 
your  clothes  down  to  the  minimum  in  weight,  and  at  the  same  time 
have  no  skirts  or  lappels  to  hinder  your  shooting. 

Florida  was  the  first  granil  hunting-grounil  visited  by  my  brother 
and  myself      .\fter  a  year  or  two  of  training  under  Williams  and  a 


864 


Biru>-S/ioofing. 


i'l 


n 


j^reat  deal  of  luiniin^  amonjf  the  hills  and  aloiit;  the  tine  streams  of 
North  CJeory;ia  hail  made  real  archers  of  us.  we  spent  three  winters 
there,  shootinj^  over  some  of  tin;  fniesl  water  anil  land  rej^ion  for 
sportinjf  to  he  found  in  the  world.  My  note- hooks  arc  full  of  inii- 
denls,  some  of  which  are  fresh  to  me  as  1  read  them  over.  Uul  I 
cannot  do  more  hi-re  than  |)ick  out  two  or  three  of  the  most  striking. 
Tile  reader  must  not  expect  to  i;i't  evi-n  a  tjlimpse  of  the  dark  side. 
(.)ne  does  not  care  to  write  or  read  ahout  failures.  disapi)ointments, 
vexatious  delays,  worryinjj^  accidents,  and  ill-luck  generally, — ihcs*' 
thin}.js  come  freipiently  to  i-ver)-  sportsman.  .Some  days  he  can  fmd 
no  jrame ;  some  days  he  fmils  everything  and  can  hit  nothing;; 
sometimes  he  breaks  a  bow.  .sometimes  he  loses  all  his  arrows.  The 
successful  day.  the  "brilliant  shot."  the  excitini;  chase  ending;  in 
capture,  the  lonj.i-ranne  hit  when  I  expected  to  miss — these  are  all 
down  in  my  tield-books.  aloni^  with  rouj^h  drawini.js  of  the  birds, 
curious-  plants,  strans^e  insects, 
notable  trees,  and  whatever 
happeneil  to  strike  me  as  worth 
luture  thought. 

Our  partv  in  I'loriila  con- 
sisted oi  three. — Will  and  my- 
self and  Citsar — an  inky,  mid- 
niijht  black  man,  who  acteil 
as  cook,  washerman,  boatman, 
I'verythiny;  except  sportsmnn. 
Ca'sar  was  a  source  of  amusi-- 
ment  to  us.  In  fact,  his  face 
was  so  comically  dull  and  heavy, 
and  yet  so  plashed  over  with 
evidences  of  a  keen  sense  and 
keener  love  of  the  ludicrous, 
that  a  simple  contortion  of  its 
outlines  was  enoui^h  to  make 
one  laujj^h. 

We  campeil  once  for  a  week 
on  Lower  Indian  River,  and  it 
was  there  that  I  made  a  shot  of 
which  I  have  some  hesitancy  in 


Rmo  -  Slioofiii^. 


865 


speaking,  so  sure  am  I  that  its  history  imisl  appt-ar  apotryplial,  and  I 
have  no  means  of  provinjf  its  truth.  Our  tent  was  |>itehe(l  in  a  ilump 
of  palmetto  trei-s,  on  a  low  jut  of  shon-  overlooking,^  tlu;  frith  ola  lagoon 
of  the  river.  .\  visiting  party,  composed  of  Mr.  Willis  Uoyd  I'arker 
and  friends,  ol  London,  I'lngiand,  had  just  left  us,  making  us  a  part- 
ing pri'sent  of  five  Ixitlles  of  pale  sherry;  so  we  |)lanned  lo  have  a 
quiet  tlinner  to  the  memor\  of  our  guests.     Will  was  to  go  down  the 


If:^^"- 


il  U    lAMI'    ON     INUIAN     KIVI.H. 


river  lor  wiKI-lowl,  wdiile  I  pushed  up  the  lagoon  in  a  canoe,  hoping 
to  get  a  young  lurkt-y  or  two  from  a  flock  I  had  seen  a  few  days 
before  on  a  sort  of  island.  Casar  remained  at  the  lent  lo  lake  care 
of  things.  .An  hour  of  hisunly  |)ulling  over  a  still  dead  sheet  of 
dark  water  hroughl  me  to  wlu;re  the  lagoon  forks  al  a  sharp  angle, 
flowing  on  either  side  of  a  densi-ly  wooded  tongue  of  land,  to  when;, 
a  mile  away,  a  harely  perceptible  shallow  slough  rims  across  from 
prong  to  prong,  thus  making  a  triangular  island,  handy  s(!parated 
from  tin;  main-land  l)\  this  slough,  over  which  (V-xw  or  turkey  could 
easily  pass  at  low  tide.  I  had  caught  sight  of  a  late-hatched  brood 
of  turkey  just  at  twilight  one  evening  as  1  was  passing  this  point, 
but  they  turned  and  ran  into  a  thicket,  and  I  did  not  cant  to  follow 
them  with  only  a  few  minutes  of  day-timi;  to  si)are.  I  had  come 
prepared  for  them  now,  and,  looking  about  for  a  landingplact;,  I 
drew  the  canoe  into  a  reentrant  angle  of  tin;  shore,  anil  secured  it 
just  as  the  sun  of  a  semi-tropical  winter  day  made  glorious  all  the 
points  of  the  flat  verdurous  landscape.  Strapping  on  my  (|uiver  and 
stringing  my  bow,  I  plungcjd  into  the  marshy  wood  where  vines,  nujs.s, 
low-hanging  boughs,  tufts  of  palmetto  and  saw-palm  made  progress 
at  times  a  matter  of  gri-at  labor,  and  att«;nded  with  so  much   noise 

55 


866 


Bow -Shooting, 


ON  Till-:   eu<;e  oi'  thk   woods. 


that  such  a  thing  as  getting  near  a  turkey  was  impossible.  I'arther 
in,  however,  a  broad  glade  or  meadow  of  low,  coarse  grass  opened 
before  me,  on  the  oj-posite  rim  of  which  I  saw  the  birds  skulking 
{|uietly  along  far  beyond  bow-shot.  The  only  feasible  method  of 
approach  was  to  slip  around  the  edge  of  the  glade  just  inside  the 
fringe  of  cover.  To  do  this  involved  time  and  patient  toil,  but  your 
archer  is  used  to  such  tedious  strategy.  Poot  by  foot,  rod  by  rod, 
stealthily  as  a  cat,  I  made  my  way,  till  at  length  I  came  to  a  break 
in  the  cover,  to  pass  which  would  be  sure;  to  expose  me  to  the  birds. 
They  were  fully  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  away,  moving  slowly, 
close  together,  in  a  direction  "  quartering "  to  me.  A  few  more 
steps,  and  they  would  be  in  the  jungle.  I  must  have  a  shot.  My 
only  chance  was  to  risk  the  luck  of  a  long-range  flight  at  them,  so  I 
braced  myself  for  a  steady  pull,  elevated  my  bow-arm,  drew  to  my 
ear,  and  let  go  a  shaft.  At  the  sound  of  the  recoil  of  my  weapon, 
the  turkeys  stopped,  lifted  their  heads,  and  began  that  sharp  cry  of 
"  Pit — pit !  "  so  well  known  to  sportsmen.  Meantime,  my  arrow 
went  singing  through  the  elongated  parabola  of  its  flight.  I  watched 
it  with  that  fixed  eagerness  which  always  attends  a  moment  of  intense 
suspense.  A  little  breeze  was  blowing,  but  it  did  not  seem  to  afifect 
the  course  of  the  .shaft.  Swiftly  it  swept  down,  and  I  saw  the  feathers 
shatter  out  from  the  back  of  one  of  the  turkeys,  which  tried  to  rise, 
but  could  not.  It  was  a  "  solid  hit,"  as  we  tern;  it,  and  the  bird  was 
done   for.     The  others  of  the  flock  took  rapidly  to  wing,  and  soon 


'•;!, 


\  -; 


Bmc- Shoo  filler. 


867 


l-arthur 
opened 

skulkin^f 

ethotl  t)f 

iside  the 

l)Ut  your 

d  by  rod, 

3  a  break 

the  birds. 
^  slowly, 
few  more 

ihot.     My 

Ithem,  so  1 
ew  to  my 

ly  weapon, 
,arp  cry  of 
my  arrow 
I  watched 
of  intense 
m  to  affect 
[he  feathers 
lied  to  rise, 
le  bird  was 
and  soon 


A    SU(  CRSsl'UI.    SHOT. 


curved  into  cover.  This  is  the 
lonjj^est  successful  bow-shot  we 
have  recorded.  It  must  l)e 
nott;d.  however,  that  I  did  not 
shoot  at  any  |)articuiar  l)ird, 
hut  at  the  flock,  and  of  course 
•■  much  {.rood  hick  "  was  a  stronj;; 
element  in  influencint;  the 
result.* 

On  approachinjjf  my  turkey, 
1  found  it  pierced  throiiirh  the 
spine  and  lun^s,  (juite  deail.  1 
spent  an  hour  or  two  after  tliis 
beatinif  about  the  island,  but 
saw  no  more  of  the  flock. 
Threi'  deer  jj^ot  up  before  me, 
and  in  followinir  them  I  passed 
around  an  arm  of  the  lajj^oon.  Before  I  was  aware  of  it,  I  had  betan- 
jjled  myself  in  a  jungle,  from  which  it  took  me  two  hours  more  to 
extricate  myself,  and  it  was  two  o'clock  when  I  reached  my  canoe. 
I'eeling  pretty  hun^^ry,  I  did  not  dally  much  in  returninj,^  to  thi:  tent. 
When  I  reached  it,  however,  Ca;sar  was  not  there,  and  no  prepara- 
tions for  dinner  were  visible.  I  lay  down  to  smoke  and  rest.  In  a  few 
minutes  Will  came  in.  tired  too;  but  Caesar  could  not  be  heard  from, 
thou<rh  we  called  him  in  no  jrentle  way.  b'inally.  wl-  had  to  make  a 
fire  and  prepare  the  dinner  ourselves.  We  roasted  the  turkey, 
which,  beinjf  only  about  half-L;rown.  cooked  easily,  and  Will  maile 
some  excellent  coffee.  We  had  sailor's  biscuit,  some  pickles,  onions, 
canned  fruit,  and  then  the  wine :  but  when  we  came  to  look  for  the 
last-named  article,  not  a  bottle  could  be  found  !  O  Casar,  what 
unfeelinjr  treachery  !  We  understocKJ  the  matter  now,  and  a  little 
search  discovered  him  lyint^  under  a  palmetto-tree,  sleeping  the 
sleep  of  the  very  drunk.      By  his   side   were  all   the  bottles,  two  of 

*  Whilf  on  the  suliject  of  long  shots,  I  must  nivc  to  Captain  H.  H.  Tallxjlt.  of  our 
Crawfordsvillc  (Indiana)  Archery  t'lul).  the  credit  of  one  of  the  tairest  and  thiest.  which 
was  made  in  the  presence  of  several  witnesses.  He  hit  a  yolden-winged  wootljjei  ker, 
a  l)ird  not  (juite  so  large  as  a  dove,  at  a  measureil  distance  of  seventy-nine  yards. 
This,  of  course,  is  a  better  record  than  mine  above  given. 


868 


B(rw  -Shooting. 


m 


F^^;.;^ 


ALONG   TIIR    BAY. 


w 


■ff'ifi'iif 

mm  , 


tl  "CI 


if'**!' 


them  nearly  empty  !  \Xc  threatened  to  trounce  him  roundly  when  he 
got  sober;  but  that  great  black,  appealing  face  repelled  our  anger, 
and  we  forgave  him. 

I  cannot  think  of  camp  life  in  Florida  without  longing  to  talk  and 
write  glowingly  of  it,  but  this  paper  must  be  a  "  practical "  one.  I 
am  sure  of  this,  however :  no  man  ever  went  to  Florida  with  a  shot- 
gun and  found  such  sport,  such  exercise,  such  exhilarating  pastime 
and  recreation,  as  he  could  have  found  iiad  he  been  an  accomplished 
archer.  Much  of  our  time  there  was  spent  heron-shooting,  and  every 
sportsman  knows  what  a  wary,  wild,  almost  unapproachable  bird  the 
heron  is.  Let  me  here  .say  that  woodcraft  is  probably  the  most 
important  and  most  difficult  part  of  all  an  archer's  training.  To  be  a 
successful  hunter  with  the   bow,   you  must  know  perfectly  all  the 


Bow -Shooting. 


869 


\ 


ever  ;  en.  r"  '"'""'  "''^'^'■"''  ^'"'•'"^'  "''  '"  >'-"•  — ""y 
and  t  .ac  V  "  ;'-^'7'T.'^^'  =  ^"^-  ^^'--  all.  you  must  U..  keen-si,HUecl 
and  steady^o.  hand.  I.„r  to  j,et  within  ^..od  l.ow-shnt  of  your  tame 
■s  of  the  first  value,  and  scarcely  second  to  this  is  the  power  f 
mstantly  centerm^:  ail  >  our  faculties  in  the  act  o(  shooting 

lo  show  how  a  perfectly  trained  archer  .nanajres  his  approach  to 
V|ery  wary  game  under  circumstances  of  extreme  difficuUv.   let  me 
descnbe  how  Wdl  worked   his  way  to  within  forty  yards  of'  a  snowy 
heron.       I  he   great  wh.te  bird   was  sitting  on    the   top  <,f  an   old 
cypress-stump  about   twenty  yards  out   in   a  shallow  pond,  and  we 
were  lymg  on  a  green  tussock  six  htm.lred  yards  away.      We  had 
been  talkmg  about  the  great  difficulty  of  getting  a  shot  at  him.  and 
finally  one  of  us   remarked    that   it  w<,uld    be  evidence  of  the  very 
h.i,dK-st  sk.ll  .f  a  hunter  should  show  himself  able  lo  outwit  that  old 
heron,  and  get  w.thm  fair  shooting  distance  of  him.     iMnally   Will 
determmed  to  try  his  luck,  on  condition  that  he  should  be  considered 
champion  if  he  succeeded. 

rhe  ground  between  us  and  the  pond  in  which  the  cypress-stump 

stood  was  covered  w.th  thin,  stiff  grass.  aiunU  knee  hi,'  ,  with  here 

and  there  tall  tufts  of  broad-leaved  a.juatic  weeds  growing  arounci 

ttle  puddles  of  water.      Will's  method  of  procedure  was  to  lie  down 

n  the  gra.ss,  and  snake  himself  along  from  one  of  these  tufts  to  an- 

er   wh.ch  would  have  been  rapid  enough  and  quite  easy  had  the 

tufts  been  anythmg  hke  in  a  row  leading  toward  the  bird  f  but  this 

vva.s  no    the  cas.      Sometimes  a  space  had  to  be  passed,  in  full  view 

Here  VV.II  s  patience  and  skill  were  put  to  strongest  test.      Lying 

fla    ,n  the  grass    face  downward,  he  drew  himself  forward   inch  by 

nch  (so  slowly  that  h.s  .notion  was  hardly  discernible),  till  a  weed 

tuft  would  hide  hun  from  the  ga.ne.  then  he  w<H,ld  slip  rapidly  up  to 

Ca^sa    and  I  watched  alternately  the  archer  and  the  bird.      Now  and 
en  the  latter  would  stretch  out  its  wings  and  shake  them  a  little  or 

were  not  those  of  fnght.  .As  Will  neared  his  game,  his  motions 
became  st.II  more  slow  and  careful.  He  .ig.agge'd  back  and  for  h 
from  tuft  to  tuft,  gaining  only  a  few  feet  of  distance  for  many  yards 


870 


Bow -Shooting. 


^„;  I' 


THK    HAUNT    OK    THK    IIKKON. 


of  creepinjj.  Hut  he  was  jjetting  the  space  quite  narrow  between 
him  and  the  heron.  Presently  it  only  remained  for  him  to  reach  an- 
other tuft.  Line  by  line  he  seemed  to  move,  scarcely  faster  than  the 
hand  of  a  clock,  and  at  last  we  saw  him  draw  himself  up  behind  the 
tall  weeds.  For  a  few  moments  he  rubbed  his  arms  to  relieve  them 
of  their  weariness,  then  he  slipped  an  arrow  from  his  quiver,  nocked 
it  on  the  string,  and  moved  to  one  side  of  the  tuft  to  get  a  view  of 
his  bird.  I  was  watching  his  movements  through  a  good  glass,  and 
I  felt  my  nerves  tingle  with  the  excitement  of  expectancy.  All  at 
once  he  drew  and  shot.  Down  came  the  heron  impaled  on  the  shaft, 
his  great  wings  spread  out  and  his  long  neck  doubled  under  him ! 
Caesar  and  I  leaped  to  our  feet  and  yelled  with  delight. 


[\ 


between 
reach  an- 
■r  than  the 
Ibehind  the 
plieve  them 
ker,  nocked 
|t  a  view  of 
glass,  and 
:y.     All  at 
|n  the  shaft, 
inder  him! 


Bmc  -  S/iootiiiir. 


871 


Slu)()lin^  tish  ini^flil  seem  to  he-  poor  s|K)rt,  hut  in  the  clear 
s|)rinj,f-streams  of  North  (ieorjria  we  have  had  some  hvely  work  ami 
rij,'hl  royal  fiin  killin),^  hass  ("  trout. "  the  people  call  them  there)  with 
the  how  ami  arrow.  Will  was  the  first  to  allempi  this,  ami  after  two 
hours'  sport  he  hrou^Mu  in  a  string  of  five  >r  six  hass.  one  of  them 
weij^hinj,'  ovv  four  pounils.  They  weie  certainly  the  most  tooth- 
some fish  I  ever  ate,  their  llavor  heing  e(|ual  to  the  famed  pom- 
panu,  while  their  llesh  seemeil  firmer  ami  juicier,  .\fter  this. 
"trout"  shootinj.,'  became  a  favorite  chan^ri-  with  us  when  tireil  of 
other  sport  or  when  other  j^^ame  ilid  not  offer.  No  ilisciple  of 
Izaak  Walton  need  lly  into  a  passion  at  this,  for  in  the  clear 
spriny;-streams  of  North  (leorj^ia  no  bass  would  ever  lake  either 
fly  or  minnt)w  for  me,  thouj^jh  in  the  rivers  and  brooks  they  are  lively 
enou^di  ^fame  for  the  hook,  in  the  ()*)thcalo}.ja.  a  small  mill  stream 
near  Calhoun.  I  caught  a  strini;  of  sixteen  pounds  in  less  than  tw(» 
hours,  but  in  the  Cranetah  and  Ihi,^  !^pi*ing  streams  they  will  n«)l  rise 
or  strike  at  all. 

It  is  a  lonjr  step  from  I'Morida  to  the  Kankakee  re}.,don  of  Illinois 
and  Indiana;  but  there  are  times  when  the  sportsman  may  lake  the 
step  with  profit  to  himself  In  the  sprints  ami  fall,  this  rej^ion  is  one 
of  die  finest  jrrounds  for  mallard,  teal,  wood-duck,  and  j^^eese,  to  be 
found  in  the  United  States.  I  need  not  say  to  a  sportsman  that  the 
mallard  is  a  kinjr's  own  binl  for  llu'  table.  The  canvas-l)ack  iloes 
not  surpass  it.  I  have  shot  corn -fed  mallards  whose  flesh  was  as 
sweet  as  that  of  a  younj^  (|uail,  ami  at  the  same  lime  as  choice- 
fiavored  as  that  of  the  woodcock.  A  favorite  way  of  shootini,'  these 
birds,  and  ueese  also,  with  the  bow.  is  for  the  arclu;r  to  concial 
himself  at  a  point  ovt;r  which  a  flock  will  lly  when  disturbed,  and 
send  an  assistant  to  ljo  by  a  wide  circuit  round  ihe  i.;aine  and  drive 
it  over.  1  have  sieii  i-ij^lu  or  ten  binls  taken  in  this  way  durin^j  thi- 
course  of  two  hours'  shooting.  lUit  the  best  s|)orl  is  had  by  slij)ping 
along  the  shores  of  the  [joiuls  and  streams  ami  jj^i'llinj;  sin_t,de  shots 
by  strategy.  In  the  Kankakt-e  lagoons  one  ma)  shoot  all  day  at 
buffle-heads,  wood  duck,  teal,  scaup-duck,  and  mallard  without  get- 
ting out  of  sight  of  his  camp.  On  ihe  Hat  prairies  bordering  this 
river  plover  are  plentiful,  and  no  bird  offers  a  better  mark  for  an 
arrow.  It  is  somewhat  difficult  to  hit,  but  the  sport  is  exciting  on 
account  of  the  fact  that  on  the  smooth,  level  meadow  of  tin;  prairie 


872 


Bcnv- ^hooting. 


%-\ 


tiundf.k-pi'mpf;r. 


you  can  mark  just  how  near  you 
come  to  killiny^  each  bird  ;  and 
oftentimes  a  miss,  when  your 
arrow  fairly  lifts  the  back-feath- 
ers of  the  game  or  "tips"  its 
tail  or  beak,  gives  jou  as  much 
pleasure  as  if  you  had  bowled  it 
over.  The  peculiarly  lively  skip 
and  jump  taken  by  a  plover 
when  an  arrow-head  strikes  into 
the  ground  beside  it  is  enough 
to  make  any  healthy  man  laugh 
in  spite  of  himself  Of  course, 
when  shooting  at  game  so  small, 
you  must  be  content  to  miss  five  times  as  often  as  you  hit ;  indeed, 
to  kill  once  out  of  five  shots  would  be  excellent  archery.  I  have 
had  some  days  of  rare  sport  when  my  score  showed  over  forty  shots 
to  each  bird  I  bagged. 

A  kind  of  bittern  or  night-heron  haunts  the  prairie  sloughs  in 
the  Kankakee  region,  and  often,  for  lack  of  better  game,  I  have 
knocked  them  over  for  their  wing-feathers,  which  make  excellent 
trimmings  for  light  arrows.  The  natives  call  these  bitterns  by  the 
very  appropriate,  if  not  euphonious,  name  of  "thunder-pumper." 

It  is  rather  remarkable  that  the  archer  is  subjected  to  the  criticism 
of  everybody  who  sees  him.  A  grave  man,  who  boasted  of  having 
served  many  years  in  the  Hoosier  senate,  once  gave  me  a  long 
lecture  on  the  folly  and  childishness  of  "  playing  with  bows  'n  arrers"; 
but  he  would  sit  all  day  beside  a  mill-pond,  fishing  for  "  goggle- 
eyes  "  and  sun-perch,  without  dreaming  of  childishness.  A  Kankakee 
herder,  with  a  cast  of  countenance  decidedly  hangdog,  ventured  to 
set  his  big  cur  on  Will,  becau.se  he  went  among  some  cattle  to  shoot 
at  a  prairie-hen  ;  but  a  well  directed  blunt  shaft  settled  the  dog, 
which  ran  yelling  back  to  its  irate  master.  I  well  remember  an  old 
curmudgeon  whom  we  ran  across  in  a  Florida  woods.  He  carried  a 
flint-locked  rifle,  nearly  six  feet  long,  and  wore  what,  .some  twenty 
years  before,  had  been  a  beaver  tile.  He  helped  himself  to  an 
enormous  quid  of  smoking  fine-cut,  and  forthwith  began  to  ply  us 
with  questions  about  our  weapons.      We  very  patiently  explained  our 


f' 


Bow  -S/ioo/iiig. 


873 


;  indeed, 
I   have 
,rty  ^Uots 

iloughs  in 
e,    I   have 

excellent 
t-ns  by  the 
mper." 
e  criticism 

of  having 
Tie  a  long 

'n  arrers"; 

"  goggle- 
Kankakee 

entured  to 

k  to  shoot 

A    the   dog, 

nber  an  old 

e  carried  a 

Miie  twenty 

nself  to  an 

n  to  ply  us 

plained  our 


I 


■       Hi 


A    SIAIU    uLl)     lAK.MKK. 


method  of  shooting  and  how  our  arrows  were  made,  tlie  use  of  our 
quivers,  and  so  on,  till  he  seemed  satisfied,  and  stood  for  a  moment  as 
if  plunged  in  deep  meditation.  Then  he  turned  ahruptl\-  away  and 
left  us,  muttering  as  he  did  so,  "  Ve  couldn't  gi'  me  a  thousand  o' 
them  'ere  hows  !  " 

Sometimes  we  have  been  followed  for  a  half-day  at  a  time  by  a 
staid  old  farmer,  to  watch  us  shoot.  His  delight  at  our  success  was 
as  imbounded  as  his  amazement  was  profound. 

Wood-duck  shooting  is  the  bowman's  richest  sport,  and  the  bird 
itself  is  the  most  ro\al  of  game  in  everything  but  size.  The  little 
streams  of  the  Middle  and  Western  States,  especially  those  of  Indiana 


874 


Bow-Shooting. 


"'  \ 


and  Illinois,  teem  with  wood-duck  in  their  season,  which  is  from  the 
first  of  September  to  about  the  tenth  of  November,  when  ihey  fly 
south.  These  small  streams  mostly  flow  through  a  wooded  country, 
between  low  bluffs  fringed  with  papaw  and  hazel  thickets,  and  over- 
shadowed by  giant  oak  and  plane  trees.  Acorns  are  constantly 
dropping  into  th(;  clear  water,  giving  the  ducks  all  the  food  they 
desire;  l)ut  should  this  source  chance  to  fail,  the  wheat-stacks  and 
corn-shocks  of  the  farmer  are  hard  by,  and  to  them  they  make  dail)- 
excursions.  Under  cover  of  the  bluffs  or  the  hazel  and  papaw  thick- 
ets, the  archer  has  easy  work  approaching  his  birds,  and  generally 
gets  within  short  rangt;  of  them  before  he  shoots.  If  you  can  keep 
the  shot- (runners  awa\,  three  or  four  miles  of  a  well  stocked  stream 
will  afford  two  archers  plenty  of  sport  for  a  whole  season.  Hunting 
them  with  the  bow  does  not  drive  the  birds  off  to  other  haunts ;  but 
the  souml  of  a  gun  soon  depopulates  a  stream,  whether  any  duck  be 
killed  or  not.  The  little  rivulet  I  am  now  hunting  along  is  so 
shallow  that  I  can  wade  it  at  any  point,  and  its  average  width  is  not 
over  fifteen  yards.  No  gunners  have  been  on  it  this  season — /.  <•., 
within  a  mile  or  two  of  my  cabin,  each  way.  The  ducks  are  plenti- 
fully distributed  along  my  beat,  and  seem  very  fat.  I  am  having 
grand  luck. 

Yesterday,  1  found  an  okl,  deati,  scraggy  plane-tree,  so  full  of 
knot-holes  and  deserted  woodpecker  holes  that  it  looked  like  a  dry 
honey-comb,  and  it  was  literally  crammed  with  flying  squirrels.  I 
spent  an  hour  pounding  on  the  old  shell  and  shooting  at  the  little 
animals  when  they  came  (uit  of  the  holes,  .\nything  that  flies, 
swims,  climbs,  or  runs  is  game  for  the  archer.  Me  shoots  at 
everything,  from  a  tomtit  to  a  hawk  or  an  eagle,  from  a  flying- 
.squirrel  or  ground-scjuirrel  to  a  deer.  He  is  out  for  sport,  and  means 
to  have  it. 


To  close  this  |)aper,  a  few  plain  rules  for  bow-shooting  will  be  of 
value  to  those  wlio  may  be  tempted  to  try  it. 

The  first  thing  is  to  secure  good  weapons.  A  poor  bow  and 
slipshod  arrows  are  worse  than  none. 

For  target  practice,  a  fifty-pound  lemon-wood  bow,  six  feet  long, 
and  best-footed  Highfield  arrows,  twenty-i'ight  inches  long,  are  what 
is  needed.    A  hunting-bow  should  be  ten  or  fifteen  pounds  heaxier. 


n  the 

-y  fly 

mtry, 
over- 
tan  tly 
1  they 
iS  and 
■  daily 
thick- 
nerally 
n  keep 
stream 
luntin^^ 
ts;  but 
Juck  be 
ig  is  so 
;h  is  not 
n — '•  <■•. 
;  plenti- 
1  having 

b  full  of 
ke  a  dry 
rels.  I 
the  little 
lat  flies, 
hoots  at 
a  flying- 
iid  means 


kill  be  of 

how  and 

I  feet  long, 
are  what 
heavier. 


Bow -Shooting. 


875 


s^- 


JPMaim  i; 


WAITING    lOH    A    SIIOI. 


All  your  weapons  and  accouternients  must  be  kejit  dr\  and  well 
oiled.      Dampness  and  archery  do  not  agree. 

Never  allow  yourself  to  make  a  careless  sliot  at  anything.  .Strive 
for  excellence  at  every  effort. 

Never  try  to  take  aim  when  shooting,  but  fi.\  your  eyes  steadily 
on  the  mark,  and  guide  your  arrow  by  your  sense  of  direction. 

Squeeze  the  bow-handle  with  the  left  hand.  You  cannot  hold  it 
too  fast.  Draw  ([uickly  and  evenly.  Let  go  without  "  hobbling"  or 
tremor. 

Do  not  allow  the  sight  of  gamt?  to  put  you  all  in  a  quiver.  You 
cannot  shoot  well  when  e.xcited. 

I  lo  not  decry  angling  and  gunning,  e.xcept  that  the  latter  is  too 
destructive  of  game.  I  am  an  enthusiastic  "di.sciple  of  the  rod,"  but 
whenever  I  cast  a  fly  or  troll  a  minnow  my  long-bow  is  near  at  hand 
and  a  well  filled  quiver  at  my  side.  You  cannot  combine  gunning  and 
angling  on  account  of  the  weight  of  the  gun  and  accouternients,  and 
-Still  more  because  the  noise  of  fire-arms  is  sure  to  render  timid  fish 
sullen.  I  have  known  the  bass  in  a  well  stocked  pool  utterly  to  refuse 
the  most  tempting  bait  through  an  entire  day,  for  nothing  more  than 
a  pistol-shot  fired  close  by.  The  twang  of  a  bowstring  seems  to 
frighten  nothing.  It  was  the  old  first  note  of  music  made  by 
Apollo. 

I  will  here  endeavor  to  sut  forth  the  whole  "  code  of  practice  "  of 
archery  as  1  follow  it: 

To  M.VKK  A  Good  Bow. — Take  a  good,  clear  billet  split  from 
mulberry,  sassafras.  Southern  cedar,  black  locust,  ash,  or  apple-tree, 


8/6 


Bow-Shooting. 


giving  preference  to  the  woods  in  the  order  named.  Let  the  billet  be 
from  five  to  seven  feet  long,  according  to  the  desired  length  of  the 
bow.  Now  with  great  care  shave  the  piece  down  to  a  uniform  size 
for  its  whole  lengt..,  say  nearly  circular,  and  two  and  a  half  inches 
in  diameter.  Lay  the  piece  away  to  dry  in  the  shade  for  two  months, 
taking  care  that  no  hint  of  moisture  ever  reaches  it.  When  it  is 
thoroughly  seasoned,  finish  as  follows :  First,  mark  the  exact  center 
of  the  billet,  and  from  this  point  in  the  direction  of  what  is  to  be  the 
lower  end  of  the  bow  lay  off  a  space  of  five  inches  for  the  handle. 
From  each  extremity  of  the  handle  taper  the  bow  to  the  ends,  each 
of  which  must  be  a  shade  larger  than  the  tip  of  the  archer's  third 
finger.  Now  dress  the  handle  and  body  of  the  bow  down  till  by 
trying  it  you  find  it  nearly  of  the  proper  strength,  then  flatten  the 
back  a  little  the  whole  length  of  the  bow,  glue  a  bit  of  green  plush 
round  the  handle,  and  your  bow  is  ready  for  the  horn  tips,  which  are 
the  ends  of  cow-horns  bored  out  to  fit  over  the  bow's  ends  and 
nocked  or  notched  as  seen  in  the  detail  drawings  on  a  previous  page. 
The  hole  bored  in  the  horn  to  receive  the  tip  of  the  bow  should  be 
deep  enough  to  let  the  wood  pass  in  to  slightly  above  the  nock.  To 
make  the  horn  work  easily,  Ijoil  it  in  water  for  an  hour  or  two.  A 
bow  of  six  feet  in  length  and  of  sixty  pounds  drawing  power  will 
throw  a  good  arrow  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  yards.  Of  course, 
the  reader  knows  at  once  that  his  bow  must  be  suited  to  his  muscular 
force  and  to  the  experience  he  has  had  in  archery.  Fifty  pounds 
drawing  weight  is  about  right  for  an  ordinary  man  to  begin  with. 
The  length  of  the  bow  should  be  two  or  three  inches  in  excess  of  the 
archer's  height.  A  lady's  bow  may  be  from  twenty-eight  to  forty 
pounds  strong.  I  have  somewhere  seen  it  stated  that  her  majesty 
Queen  Victoria  in  her  younger  days  greatly  enjoyed  archery,  and 
gloried  in  her  ability  to  brace  and  draw  a  fifty-five  pound  bow. 

To  Make  a  Good  Bowstkinc;. — Take  silk  or  flax  harness-thread 
of  the  best  quality  and  twist  a  string  of  about  one-seventh  of  an  inch  in 
diameter,  waxing  it  well  during  the  process  of  twisting  with  shoe- 
maker's wax  or  bees-wax.  Fasten  one  end  of  this  string  tightly 
into  the  nock  of  the  lower  end  of  the  bow.  With  the  other  end  of 
the  string  form  a  neat,  firm  loop  (not  a  slii)-noose)  around  the  other 
end  of  the  bow,  two  and  a  halfor  three  inches  below  the  nock.  Your 
weapon  is  now  ready  to  string,  or  "brace,"  as  the  old  archers  had  it. 


JT;.; 


;, 


Bow-S/ioofiug. 


^11 


To  Makk  A  G..01,  AKK,.vv._Makc  the  sliaft  as  directed  in  the 
prev.ous  art.cle  ;  peel  off  the  skin  or  outer  coverin,-  of  the  broa  U  1 
o   a  goose-feather  w.th  the  vane  or  phu.e  on  the  :kin.  or  ratlu-r  ned 

descnbed       I  hese  vanes  may,  ,1  necessary,  be  held  to  their  olices 
■11    he  gh.e  .s  hard  by  a  wrapping  of  hue  thread.     The  „<^^k       .s 
be  deep  and  smooth,  and  large  enough   to  receive  the  stri^^  fr  2' 
The  leads  of  target-shafts  can  be  made  hy  anv  smith.     Thev  consist 
o    l.ght,  ponued   n-on  or  steel   thimbles  made  to  ht  over  the\   X 
the  <n  rows;   or  you  can   make  excellent  heads  I>v  borin<.  out  hi  s  o 
pointed  horn  and  using  them  in    the  place  of  the  steeM.rd'    The 

descnbed       iij    referring    to  the  detail  cuts  there    given  anv  oood 
blacksnuth  can  n,ake  them.    They  should    not  weigh  over  'a  1^ 
ounce      A  good  arrow-head    for    bird-shooting  is  ^ade    by    , ^    " 
n.^  .nelted  hard  pewter  over  the  end  of  the  shaft  and  keeping        o 
.ts  place    t.ll  cooled,  by  a  cup  of  stiff  writing-paper.      To  I  this   c  u 
a  s  oulder  one   ,nch   or   less   fron.   the   e.xtre'nity   of  the    shaft   a 
sh,ghtly  lessen  the  wood  for  that  distance;   then  roll  the  pape     o. 
he  shaft  and  t.e  ,t  so  as  to  leave  room  for  the  pewter  to  filfin  ro 
the  shoulder  between  the  wood  and  the  paper.      This  will  form  . 
smooth    bnght  ferrule.      Some  sharp  spiral   notches  cut  i^ the     ood 
WW  the  pewter  goes  will  .serve  to  hold  it  firmly  to  its  place  Tn 
It  cools        Ladies  arrows  may  be  from  twenty-three  to  twent^-seven 
inches  long,  and  highly  colored  with  gilt  and  gay  paints  to  lit    he 
taste  or  whim  of  the  archer.  ^ 

How  TO  Shoot. -Your  bow  being  first  strung  or  braced,  hold  it 
hor  zontally  be  ore  you,  /.  .,  with   the  bow  at  right  angles  with  you 
body   your  left  hand     rmly  grasping  the  handle  ;  slip  a,?  arrow  und 
the  strmg  and  over  the  bow  at  the  right  edge  of  your  left  hand  -xnd 
touchmg  the  left   forefinger  knuckle ;   place'the  arrow-nock  well  :! 
he   stnng  ;   turn   the   palm  of  your  right   hand  up,  placing  the  first 
hree    ngers  t  ereof  under  the   string,  hooking  their  tips' round    it 
w.th  the  arrow  between  the  first  and  second,  and  the  thumb  extended 
along  the  shaft  near  the  nock.     Now,  keeping  all  holds  thus,  turn  the 
bow  till  .t  stands  vertically  before  you,  your  arrow  resting  against  and 
above  your  left  forefinger  knuckles;   turn  your  left  side  U>  the  target 
fix  your  eye  steadily  on  the  center  of  the  bull's-eye,  draw  the  string 


878 


Bow -Shooting. 


back  till  your  right  thumb  touches  the  upper  tip  of  your  right  ear ; 
squeeze  the  bow-handle  powerfully  with  the  left  hand,  steady !  let 
drive  !  Now,  if  you  have  paid  good  heed  to  the  above  directions  and 
have  been  sure  to  keep  the  arrow-nock  well  on  the  string,  you  have 
made  a  pretty  shot.  Do  not  attempt  to  take  aim.  The  only  way  to 
become  a  good  bow-shot  is  to  learn  to  guide  your  shaft  by  feeling,  /.  e., 
by  your  sense  of  direction  and  distance  Your  eyes  must  be  glued,  so 
to  speak,  upon  the  target.     This  is  the  one  great  rule  of  archer) . 

MiSCEM.ANKOUS. 


\\    I 


ft      \ 


Vr  )  '    , 


No  home-made  bows  or  target-arrows  can  half-way  equal  those 
beautiful  weapons  made  by  Philip  Highfield,  of  London,  England  ; 
Messrs.  Peck  and  Snyder,  of  New  York  City,  are  Mr.  Highfield's 
American  agents.  A  letter  addressed  to  them  will  procure  for  its 
writer  a  catalogue  and  numbered  price-list  of  archery  goods.  In 
purchasing  a  bow  ask  for  a  "  gentleman's  (or  lady's)  lemon-wood  bow, 
horn-tipped,  plush  handled,"  stating  desired  length  and  strength.  I 
would  advise  the  reader  to  begin  with  a  rather  weak  bow. 

For  target-arrows  order  "gentleman's  (or  lady's)  whole-nocked, 
best-footed,  Highfield  target-arrows,"  naming  length. 

Targets,  made  of  plaited  straw  and  faced  with  canvas,  maty  be 
had  of  any  size  from  one  foot  to  four  feet  in  diameter.  Each  archery 
club  will  need  at  least  two  targets. 

The  best  shooting  gloves  are  of  kid  or  lisle  thread,  with  close- 
fitting  gauntlet-bands  covering  the  whole  fore-arm,  thus  serving  as 
both  glove  and  arm -guard.  I  cannot  recommend  the  finger-tips  sold 
as  sliooting  gloves  by  the  dealers. 

To  form  a  club,  let  any  number  from  six  to  thirty  gentlemen  and 
ladies  associate  themselves  by  a  constitution  and  by-laws  taking 
some  appropriate  name,  and  electing  their  officers,  such  as  master- 
bowman,  secretary,  and  treasurer.  I  larefer  the  title  of  master-lww- 
inan  to  that  of  president,  and  suggest  that  societies  do  not  cumber 
their  organizations  with  too  many  officers.  The  master-bowman  is, 
of  course,  the  leader  or  chief  of  his  band.  He  settles  all  disputes 
between  his  followers  arising  on  the  field  or  in  the  hall.  The  secre- 
tary and  treasurer  fill  the  same;  places,  respectiveh-,  that  are  filled  by 
like  officers  in  other  associations  or  companies.     At  each  shooting, 


BoTx)- Shooting. 


879 


ear; 
/'.  let 
s  and 
1  have 
,vay  to 
I.  i-  <■'•< 
leJ,  so 

■y- 


il  those 
ngland ; 
ghfiekVs 
■e  for  its 
ods.  In 
ood  bow, 
ingth.     I 

e- nocked, 

i,  may  be 
archery 

tth  close- 
serving  as 
tips  sold 

lemen  and 
vs    taking 
j^s  masier- 
»aster-Vww- 
■vot  cumber 
bowman  is, 
all  disputes 
The  secre- 
are  ftUed  by 
:h  shooting, 


the  archer  who  makes  the  liighest  number  or  score  is  iMititKd  to  tin; 
honorary  title  of  captain  of  numbers  or  captain  of  the  target.  A  silver 
arrow,  a  small  silver  bugU-horn,  or  some  other  appro|)riate  prize, 
may  be  offered.  An  old  Spanish  yew  bow  of  ICnglish  maki-  would 
be  a  happy  choice. 


iv  ••.;:!--L.-.uimjaii 


i  Pl' 


'<( 


THE    BLOW-GUN, 


By     AI.l'RKl)     M.     MAVK  R 


IN  stiulyinjr  the  (k-velopmcnt  of  tin;  modern  j^un  ami  rifle,*  it  is 
very  interestinjr  to  see  how  nearly  all  the  parts  and  functions  of 
these  arms  are  foreshadowed  in  the  blow-gun,  a  weapon  admi- 
rably adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  hunter  in  the  countr)-  where  it  is 
employed.  This  arm,  like  many  other  weapons  used  by  sava^^es,  is 
found  in  use  amonj;-  tribes  of  different  races  inhabitinjr  countries  far 
removed  from  one  another.  The  blow-gun  is  the  sporting-arm  of 
the  Dyaks  of  Borneo,  and  of  the  Indians  inhabiting  South  America 
between  the  Amazon  and  the  Orinoco  rivers.  It  was  also  used  by 
the  Choctaws  of  the  lower  Mississippi.  Bossu,  in  his  "Travels  in 
Louisiana,  1756,"  says:  "They  (the  Choctaws)  are  very  e.xpert  in 
shooting  with  an  instrument  made  of  reeds  about  seven  feet  long, 
into  which  they  put  a  little  arrow  feathered  with  the  wool  of  a 
thistle ;  and  in  aiming  at  an  object  they  blow  into  the  tube,  and 
often  hit  the  aim,  and  frequently  kill  little  birds  with  it." 

The  four  different  types  of  blow-guns  used  by  savages  are  alike 
in  "eneral  form  and  method  of  use.  I  will  give  an  account  of  the 
blow-gun  used  by  the  Macoushies  of  (juiana,  and  called  by  them  the 
piicuna.  These  Indians  are  the  most  expert  of  all  the  savages  in  the 
manufacture  of  the  blow-gun.  They  also  have  the  secret  of  the 
preparation  of  the  death-dealing  wourali  poison  with  which  their 
blow-gun  arrows  are  tipped.  A  neighboring  tribe,  called  Warns,  are 
the  best  canoe-makers,  and  they  exchange  canoes  and  paddles  for 
the  blow-guns  and  wourali  of  the  Macoushies. 

The  Macoushie  blow-gun  is  made  of  two  reeds,  one  within  the 
other.      The  inner  reed  is  called  the  oura/i,  and  it  is  the  use  of  this 


Sec  "  The  Shot-Gun,"  in  this  volume. 


56 


882 


The  Blow-Gun. 


I.J  > 


inner  barrel  which  makes  the  Macoushie  j^un  superior  to  all  others. 
The  ourah  is  only  found  on  the  sandstone  ridj^e  of  the  upper 
Orinoco.  It  grows  to  a  height  of  fifteen  feet  without  a  joint.  The 
dianit:ter  of  the  reed  is  only  half  an  inch,  while  its  thickness  is  not 
more  than  twice  that  of  a  playing-card.  Its  interior  is  by  nature 
highly  polished  and  is  of  a  regular  bore,  contracting  .slightly  from 
one  end  to  the  other.  Hut  this  reed  cannot  be  used  alone,  for  it  is 
fragile,  and  the  thinness  of  its  walls  allows  it  to  bend  when  held 
away  from  the  vertical  position  ;  so  it  is  incased  in  another  tube 
made  of  a  species  of  palm.  .\  rod  of  this,  having  the  proper 
diameter,  is  cut  and  steeped  in  water,  which  allows  its  interior  pulp 
to  be  taken  out.  Into  this  tube,  called  the  saiiioura/t,  is  slipped  the 
ourah  reed,  and  the  savage  gunmaker  h: ,,  a  wonderful  skill  in 
straightening  tht:  axis  of  his  gun-barrel,  and  neatly  fitting  it  to  the 
interior  of  the  samourah,  where  it  is  firmly  fixed  in  place  by  the 
black  kurumanni  wax.  The  samourah  is  then  scraped  down  to  the 
proper  thickness  and  polished. 

The  mouth-end,  or  breech,  of  the  gun  is  bound  with  a  string 
made  of  silk-grass.  The  muzzle  is  slid  through  a  hole  in  the  saucer- 
shaped  piece  of  actiero  nut,  and  the  space  between  the  interior  of  the 
nut  and  the  tube  is  filled  with  kurumanni  wax.  This  nut  forms  a 
ferrule  to  the  tube  and  also  serves  as  the  front  sight  of  the  gun. 
The  rear  sight  is  ingeniously  formed  of  two  of  the  lower  incisors  of 
a  rodent  called  the  acouchi.  These  teeth  are  cemented  to  the  tube 
with  wax,  with  their  convex  sides  upward.  In  the  space  between 
these  teeth  the  wax  is  depressed,  so  as  to  form  a  rear  sight  similar 
to  the  open  sight  of  a  rifle,  at  iibout  two  feet  distant  from  the  mouth- 
piece. This  tube,  though  very  strong,  is  quite  light.  It  is  eleven 
feet  long,  and  it  weighs  only  one  pound  and  a  half 

The  arrows  propelled  by  this  gun  are  about  the  size  of  knitting- 
needles.  They  are  formed  of  the  leaf-ribs  of  the  coucourite  palm. 
The  Indian  forms  the  shafts  of  his  arrows  and  points  them  by  draw- 
ing these  leaf-ribs  between  the  sharp-edged  teeth  of  the //;'«/ fish. 
On  one  end  of  the  arrow  is  wound  a  pear-shaped  mass  of  wild 
cotton  and  fastened  there  with  a  fiber  of  silk-grass.  The  arrows 
are  woven  together,  so  that  they  may  be  coiled  on  a  reel,  and  safely 
carried  in  a  water- proof  quiver. 

The   Indians  of  Guiana  also  use   a  very  ingenious  arrow.     In 


I 


The  BUm-Gun. 


883 


this  the  hall  of  cotton  is  replaced  by  a  piece  of  thin  bark  wrapped 
into  a  cone,  which  the  puff  of  air  expands  and  causes  it  to  rit  the 
tube  tightly  without  windage.  Here  is  the  first  inception  of  the 
Minie-ball.  Longer  pieces  of  the  same  bark  are  fixc-d  along  the 
sides  of  the  shaft,  and  these  wings  are  twisted,  so  that  the  arrow 
in  Its  flight  must  rotate  on  its  axis.  Here  we  have  the  counterpart 
of  the  rotating  rifle- ball. 

The  bore  of  all  the  blow-guns  that  I  have  examined  is  slightly 
conical,  tapering  about  four  millimeters  in  bore  from  mouth-piece  to 
muzzle.  Here  we  have  the  first  c/wl-c-bon's.  It  ma>'  be  said  that 
they  did  not  intend  them  to  be  such,  for  nature  thus  made  the  hollow 
of  their  reeds.  This  is  true;  but  nevertheless  their  guns  are  choked, 
and  the  arrows  are  always  propelled  toward  the  end  having  the 
smaller  diameter  of  bore. 

In  the  blow-gun.  or  sumpitan,  of  the  Dyaks.*  the  analogy  of 
the  blow-gun  to  modern  arms  is  carried  yet  further  in  the  appear-  • 
ance  of  the  bayonet.  The  sumpitan  is  armed  at  its  muzzle  with 
a  spear-head,  which  is  bound  to  the  side  of  the  end  of  the  tube  so 
as  not  to  interfere  with  the  flight  of  the  arrow.  This  spear  is  sup- 
posed to  serve  also  for  a  front  sight. 

The  reader  who  is  fond  of  tracing  the  analogues  of  our  modern 
arms,  tools,  and  customs  in  the  weapons,  implements,  and  habits  of 
savages  will  be  pleased  to  have  found  in  the  blow-gun  the  elements 
of  our  most  approved  modern  fire-arms.  The  blow-gun  u.ses  the 
expansive  force  of  a  gas  in  propelling  a  projectile.  It  is  of  necessity 
a  breech-loader.  It  is  choke-bored.  It  has  rear  and  front  sights 
It  throws  a  projectile  which,  like  the  rifle-ball,  rotates  around  its  axis 
in  Its  flight,  and  like  the  Minie-ball.  expands  at  its  base  so  as  to  fit 
closely  the  barrel  through  which  it  is  propelled :  and  lastly,  it  carries 
at  Its  muzzle  the  equivalent  of  a  bayonet. 

The  wourali  poison  with  which  the  arrows  are  tipped  is  made 
by  the  conjurers  of  the  tribe,   and  the  secret  of  its  preparation   is 
handed  down  from  father  to  son.     This,  together  with  the  fact  that 
all  the  neighboring  tribes  purchase  this  poison  of  the  Macoushies 
in  whose  interest  it  is  to  keep  the  composition  a  secret,  throws  some 

•  For  an  account  of  the  sumpitan,  see  "The  Head-Hunters  of  Romeo,"  by  Carl 
ijock,  London,  1881.  ^ 


884 


The  Bhno-Giin. 


I'M,'/' 


ddubt  over  the  information  whicii  travelers  have  obtained  of  its 
composition.  Our  knowledj^fe  of  its  inj^redients  is  due  mainly  to 
\\'att(.'rton.*  wi)o  spent  much  time  amon^'  tiie  natives  of  (iuiana. 
I'Vom  them  he  received  the  information  that  the  inj^redients  of 
th(?  poison  w(.'re  the-  wouraii  vine  (whicli  is  nearly  allied  to  the 
strychnus  toxifera  which  furnishes  the  nux  vomica  from  which 
strychnine  is  made),  the  hitter  root  of  the  hyarri  plant,  the  ^dutinous 
juices  expressed  from  the  stems  of  two  bulbous  plants;  two  kinds  of 
ants,  one  a  hu^^e  black  one,  whose  venomous  stin^r  often  causes  a 
fever,  die  other  a  small  red  insect,  whose  stint,'  is  like-  the  thrust  of  a 
reil-hot  needle  ;  and  lastly,  the  poison-baj,(s  of  the  labarri  and  cou- 
anacouchi  snakes.  IJoilin^j  water  is  poured  over  the  scrapinj^^s  of  the 
wouraii  and  hyarri  woods,  which  are  placed  in  a  colander  restinjj;  on 
an  earthen  pot.  Into  the  decoction  which  flows  into  the  pot  the 
Indian  now  scjuee/es  the  jrelatinous  juice  of  the  bulbous  plant,  and 
then  adds  the  serpents'  poison  and  the  ants.  This  mixture  is  sim- 
mered down  to  the  consistence  of  molasses.  The  pot  is  then  tightly 
closed  with  leaves  and  a  skin,  and  always  kept  in  a  dry  place. 

"The  act  of  preparing  the  poison,"  says  Mr.  Watterton,  "is  not 
considered  as  a  common  one  ;  the  savage  may  shape;  his  bow.  fasten 
the  barb  on  the  point  of  his  arrow,  and  make  his  other  implements 
of  destruction,  either  lying  in  his  hammock  or  in  the  midst  of  his 
family;  but  if  he  has  to  prepare  the  wouraii  poison,  many  precau- 
tions are  supposed  to  be  necessary. 

"  The  women  and  young  girls  are  not  allowed  to  be  present, 
lest  the  Yabahou.  or  evil  spirit,  should  do  them  harm.  The  shed 
under  which  it  has  been  boiled  is  pronounced  polluted,  and  abandoned 
ever  after.  He  who  makes  the  poison  must  eat  nothing  that  morn- 
ing, and  must  continue  fasting  as  long  as  the  operation  lasts.  The 
pot  in  which  it  is  boiled  must  be  a  new  one,  and  must  never  have 
held  anything  before,  otherwise  the  poison  would  be  deficient  in 
strength  ;  add  to  this  that  the  operator  must  take  particular  care  not 
to  expose  himself  to  the  vapor  which  arises  from  it  while  on  the  fire. 

"  Though  this  and  other  precautions  are  taken,  such  as  frequently 
washing  the  face  and  hands,  still,  the  Indians  think  that  it  affects  the 

•  "  Wanderings  in  .South  America,  the  North-west  of  the  I'nited  States,  and  the 
Antilles,  in  the  years  1812,  1816,  1820.  and  1821."  By  Charles  Watterton,  Esq. 
London,  Macmillan  &  Co.,  1879. 


m.. 


Till'  Hlmv-CiUiL 


885 


health  ;   and  the  operator  either  is.  or,  what  is  more  probable,  sup- 
poses himself  to  be,  sick  for  some  days  aftt-r. 

"  Ihiis  it  appears  that  the  inakin;^^  the  wouraii  poison  is  consid- 
ered as  a  ^r|,„,M,y  and  mysti-rious  operation,  ami  it  would  seem  that 
they  ima^nne  ii  affects  others  as  well  as  him  who  boils  it;  for  an  Indian 
a^rreed  on(!  evenin^r  to  make  some;  for  me.  but  the  ni'xt  mornin^^  he 
declinc.-d  havinif  anything  to  do  with  it,  alle^rinjr  that  his  wife  was 
with  child!" 

To  shoot  the  blow-}^u)ii,  the  Indian  rests  his  left  elbow  against  his 
hip  and  grasps  the  tube  with  the  palm  of  his  hand  upward  ;  then, 
with  the  palm  of  the  right  hand  downward,  he  grasps  the  tulx;  near 
the  mouth-piece.  This  manner  of  hokling  his  gun  is  similar  to  a 
method,  though  a  bad  one,  of  aiming  with  a  rifle. 

The  birds  and  animals  at  which  he  shoots  are  generally  in  the 
tops  of  the  highest  trees,  often  out  of  reach  of  any  ordinary  shot- 
gun ;  but  the  Indian  rarely  fails  to  bring  them  down.  Throwing  his 
body  backwaril,  the  gun  rises  till  it  has  the  proper  elevation,  when, 
with  a  quick  expiration  of  his  lungs,  the  arrow  leaves  the  tube  with 
a  po])  like  that  made  by  a  cork   quickly  taken  out  of  a  small  bottle. 

"  It  is  natural,"  says  Watterton.  "to  imagine  that  when  a  slight 
wound  only  is  inflicted  the  game  will  make  its  escape.  Far  other- 
wise. The  wouraii  poison  almost  instantaneously  mixes  with  blood 
or  water ;  so  that  if  you  wet  your  finger,  and  dash  it  along  the  poi- 
soned arrow  in  the  quickest  manner  possible,  you  are  sure  to  carry 
off  some  of  the  poison.  Though  three  minutes  generally  elapse 
before  the  convulsions  come  on  in  the  wounded  bird,  still  a  stupor 
evidently  takes  place  sooner,  and  this  stupor  manifests  itself  by  an 
apparent  unwillingness  in  the  bird  to  move.  This  was  very  visible 
in  a  dying  fowl. 

"  Having  procured  a  healthy,  full-grown  one,  a  short  piece  of  a 
poisoned  blow-pi|)e  arrow  was  broken  off  and  run  up  into  its  thigh, 
as  near  as  possible  betwixt  the  skin  and  the  flesh,  in  order  that  it 
might  not  be  incommoded  by  the  wound.  For  the  first  minute  it 
walked  about,  but  walked  very  slowh",  and  did  not  appear  the  least 
agitated.  During  the  second  minute  it  stood  still,  and  began  to 
peck  the  ground ;  and  ere  half  another  had  elapsed,  it  frecpiently 
opened  and  shut  its  mouth.  The  tail  had  now  dropped,  and  the 
wings  almost  touched  the  ground.     By  the  termination  of  the  third 


886 


The  BIcnu-Cuii. 


f-''f- 


1^ 


niinuti'.  it  h;ul  sal  ilowii,  scarce  uhlo  to  support  its  lu-ail,  which 
iuhIiUhI.  aiul  tlu'ii  rocovcrcil  itsi'h",  ami  thru  noiUlcd  ai;aiii,  lower  aiul 
lower  every  time,  like  that  of"  a  weary  traveler  siumberini;  in  an  erect 
position ;  the  eyes  alternati-ly  opt-n  and  shut.  The  fourth  niinut*' 
brought  on  convulsions,  ami  life  and  tlie  tilth  ter'ninateil  toiiether. 

"  rile  tlesh  ot"  the  game  is  not  in  the  least  injured  by  the  poison, 
nor  iloes  it  appear  to  corrupt  soom-r  than  that  kilknl  by  the  j;un  or 
knit'e.  The  body  of  this  Knvl  was  kept  tor  sixteen  hoiu's,  in  a 
climate  damp  and  rainy,  and  within  seven  decrees  ot"  the  eijuator  ; 
at  the  i-nd  ol"  wliich  time  it  had  contracted  no  bad  smell  whatever, 
and  there  weri'  no  svmptoms  of  putrefaction,  saving  that  just  around 
the  wiumd  tht'  llesh  appeared  siMuewhat  discolored.      *     *     *      v     « 

"  With  a  quiver  o{  poisoned  arrows  slung  over  his  shoulder,  and 
with  his  blowpipe  in  his  hand,  in  the  sanu-  pi>sitii>n  as  a  soldier 
carries  his  nuisket.  see  the  Macoushi  Indian  advancing  toward  the 
forest  in  quest  o'i  powises.  maromlis.  war.icabas,  and  other  feathered 
game. 

"  Fhcse  generally  sit  high  up  in  the  t.iU  and  tutted  trees,  but 
still    are    not   out  oi  tlu'    lndi.\n's   n-ach  ;    tor   his   blow-i>ipe.   at  its 


•reatest  elevation,  will  semi  an  arrow  three  humlri'd  leet. 


Silent  as 


m 


iilnight,  he  steals  under  them,  and  so  cautiouslv  does  he  tre.ul  tlu 


round    that  the  tallen  leaves  rustl 


K 


iMU-ath  his  teei. 


II 


IS  ears 


art;  open  to  liie  least  sound,  whiie  '••>  eyi\  keen  as  th.it  of  the  Ivnx. 
is  employed  in  liiuling  out  tlu-  g.ime  in  the  tiiickesi  sh.ide.  Otten 
he  imitates  their  crv,  and  deems  them  tnnn  tret;  to  tr,'e  till  the\  are 
within  r.mge  oi  his  tube.  Then,  taking  a  poisoned  .irrow  Wo\\\  his 
ijuivtM-,  lie  puts  it  in  tlie  blow-pipe  and  ci>llects  his  breath  tor  the 
t'.ital  putt".  Silent  .uul  switt  the  arrow  tlies.  anil  seldom  tails  to  pierce 
the  obji'ct  .U  which  it  is  sent.  .Siinietimes  the  wounded  bird  remains 
in  the  same  tree  where  it  was  shot,  and  in  throe  minutes  tails  iK>wn 
at  the  Indian's  t"t>et.  Should  he  take  wing,  his  tlight  is  i^f  short 
duration,  and  the  Indian,  t"ollowini'  the  direction  lu'  h.is  cone,  is  sure 


ti>  tuul  lum  I 


leail. 


The   Indi.m,  km\  his  return  home,  c.u  I'tullv  su 


siieiuls   Ins   l)low 


pipe  iVom  the  top  of  his  spiral  rot>t,  seUloni  placing  it  in  .\n  oblique 
position,  lest  it  should  receive  .i  cast.  " 


■,\d,  whicli 
lower  aiul 
n  an  erect 
th  luinule 
iviether. 
lu'  poison. 
:he  i;un  or 
lurs.  in  a 
>  etjuator  ; 
whatever, 
.isl  aroiuul 

«  V         * 

miller,  anil 
;  a  soldier 
towarii  the 
•  teatlierei.1 

trees,  hut 
tipe,  at  its 
Silent  .is 
.'  treail  the 
1  lis  ears 
t'  the  lynx, 
lie.  Often 
ill  they  are 
rt  Iroin  his 
;\th  tor  the 
Is  to  pierce 
inl  remains 
,  falls  ilown 
is  o(  short 
one,  is  sure 


INOHX 


>  his  Mow 
an  oblique 


!      I. 


1 

1;;, 

hP 

H  '  's 

w' 

'■'  f 

w  I 

.r 

HJ>  ♦ 


+  r;i 


II 


^■^ 


INDEX. 


Alee  Americanus.     See  Moose. 
Alexander,  Lawrence  1).,  I'aper  by. 

The  S|)Iit- Bamboo  Rod,  60 1. 
Antelope,  301,  303. 

Antilocapra  Americana  Ord.    See  Antelope 
"Arbor  Ilex,"  Paper  by. 

Camps  and  Tramps  about  Ktaadn,  801. 

Bamboo  Rod,  The  Split,  408,  411,  597. 
Ba.ss,  Black   379,  396,  451,  591,  594,  871. 
Bass,  Striped,  449. 
Bear,  How  I  killed  a,  820. 
Bear-hunting  in  the  South,  65. 
Bear,  The  Black,  49,  176,  820. 
Birch  Bark,  182,  252,  5,9,  527,  529,  569. 
Bison  Americanus.    See  Buffalo. 
Bird,  How  to  mount  a,  833. 
Black-tail  Deer,  130,  149,  258,  301. 
Blow-Gun,  The,  88,. 
Blue  Fish,  452,  455. 
Bobbmg,  393. 
Bob  White,  620,  663. 
Bond  Boats,  714. 
Bow-shooting,  854. 

Bream  and  Bass,  In  the  Haunts  of,  396. 
Buffalo  Hunting,  loi. 
Burroughs,  John,  Paper  by. 
The  Halcyon  in  Canada,  541. 

Calls,  Wood,  161,  178,  190,  194,  196,  200, 

214,763,  764- 
Camp,  168,  182,  185,  187,  216,  240,  261 

327,  360,  421,  432,  433,  446,  521,  715; 

730,  802,  817. 

Canada,  54,  ,54,  ,82,  187,  208,  401,  47, 

507.541,573- 
Canoe,  184,  527. 

Canvas-back  and  Terrapin,  726. 
Caiiacus  Coliimhianiis.  See  Black-tail  Deer. 
Cariacus  Macrotis.    See  Mule -Deer. 
Cariaciis  Macrotis  Cali/orniciis,  149. 
Cariaciis  Virymiauus.     See  Virginia  Deer. 
Caribou,  130,  140,  188,  199,  205,  208,  565 
Caton,  John  Dean    .33,  ,35,  ,49,  243. 
Cervida:.  Ihe  North  American,  129. 
Cervns  Alces.     See  Moose. 
Cennis  Canadensis.     See  Elk. 
CeiTus  Rangifer.    See  Caribou. 
CciTiis  Tarandits.    See  Caribou. 
Chumming,  452,  467. 

Deer.  Family.     See  Cervid^. 
Deer-hunting  on  the  Au  Sable,  233. 
Dogs,  40,  60,  66,  70,  74,  82,  152,  204,  242. 

r^,t''7°r'f''^'^'-'"''^'S'645-6s3. 
675,  676,  692,  701,  70s,  710,  731,  736, 
740. 


Dogs,  Some  American  Sporting,  615. 
Ducks,  68,  561,  595,  620,  707,  710,  714, 

718,  722,  725,  726,  871. 
Dunraven,  Earl  of.  Paper  by. 

Moose-hunting  in  Canada.  182. 
Elk,  130,  144,  243. 
Ellis  W.  Hodgson,  Paper  by. 

Weight  and  Length  of  Brook-Trout,  605. 
Endicott,  Francis,  Paper  by. 

Striped  Bass,  449. 
Eskimo,  129,  314. 

Fish- Hooks,  337,  364,  383,  384,  406,  506, 

523- 
Fish-Hook,  The  Primitive,  337,  539. 
Fly,  Artificial,  and   Silk-worm   Out,  604. 

See,  also,  Fish-hooks. 
Fox-hunting,  53,  79,  616. 

Gallinago  media  Wilsoni.    See  Snipe. 
(Jeese,  Wild,  68,  719,  722,  724. 
Croat,  Rocky  Mountain,  300. 
Cordon,  James,  Papers  by. 

Bjar-hunting  in    the  South,  65. 

Wild  Turkey-shooting,  760. 
(irayling.  The  Michigan,  493. 
Crinnell,  Ceorgfi  Hird.  Pajiers  by. 

The  North  American  Cervida;,  129. 

The  Antelope,  303. 

'I'he  American  Woodcock,  685. 

Snipe-shooting,  695. 
Crouse,  595,  620,  639,  710. 
Cun.     (See  Shot-Ckm,  The.)  74,84,  115, 

261,  275,  480,  683,  692,  703,  717,  722, 

751.  758. 
Halcyon  in  Canada,  The,  541. 
Henshall.  James  A.,  Paper  l)y. 

Black  Bass  Fishing,  379. 
Horns  of  Deer,    132,  140,   141, 

149,  «S6,   158,  210,  2n,  244, 

304.  327- 
Indian  Hunters,  50.  56,  58,  126,  128,  159, 

160,   165,  191,  214,  257,287,299,313, 

473- 
Killing  Fish,  389,  427. 
Ktaadn,  Camps  and  Tramjjs  about,  801. 


•44, 
259, 


147, 
260, 


Labrax  Lineatiis.    See  Bass,  Striped. 
Laffan,  W.  Mackny,  Papers  by. 

Deer-hunting  on  the  .Vu  Sable,  233. 

Canvas-back  and  Terra|)in,  726. 
Lucas.  Frederic  A.,  Paper  hv. 

How  to  mount  a  Bird,  833. 

Macdonough,  A.   R.,  Paper  by. 
Sea-Trout  Fishing,  507. 


888 


Index. 


Mayer,  Alfred  M.,  Papers  by. 

I'he  Prehistoric  Hunter,  29. 

On  the  Invention  of  the  Reel,  603. 

Artificial  Fly  and  Silk-worm  (iut,  604. 

Weight  and  Length  of  Brook-Trout,  608. 

Bob  White,  663. 

A  Day  with  the  Rails,  750. 

The  Shot-dun,  765. 

The  Blow-(iun,  881. 
Mckagris  Gallopavo.     See  'i'urkey. 
Mkroptcnis .     See  Black  Bass. 
Mills,  J.  Harrison,   Paper  by. 

Hunting  the  Mule-Deer  in  Colorado, 

257- 
Minnesota,  Field  Sports  in,  705. 
Mitchell,  William,  Paper  by. 

The  Split-Bamboo  Rod,  597. 
Mississippi,  65. 

Moose,  130,  136,  154,  182,  208. 
Muir,  John,   Paper  by. 

The  Wild  Sheep  of  the  Sierra.  280. 
Mule -Deer,  130,  147,  257,  301. 
Muskallonge,  591,  592. 
Musk- Ox  Hunt,  A,  312. 

New   F:ngland,  54,  79,  154,  209,  351,  449, 

456,  542,  802,  828. 
Norris,  Thaddeus,  Paper  by- 

The  Michigan  Clrayling,  493. 

Ovibos  Moschatiis.     See  Musk-Ox. 
Ck-is  Montana.     See  Sheep,  Wild. 

Partridge.     See  Hob  White. 
Philliiis,  Barnet,  Paper  by. 

The  Primitive  Fish-hook,  337. 
Philohela  Minor.     See  Woodcock. 
Pliocicua  Communis.     See   Porpoise. 
Pickerel,  531,  578,  591. 
Porpoise- Shooting,  473. 
Portage,  183,  530. 
Prairie  F^owl.     See  Orouse. 
Prehistoric  Hunter,  The,  29,  339. 
Prong-horn.     See  Antelope. 
Ptarmigan.     See  (Irouse. 
Pyle,  Howard,   Paper  by. 

Among  the  Thousand  Islands,  573. 

Quail.     See  Bob  White. 

Quebec,  401,  417,  433,  539,  544,  546. 

Rails,  A  Day  with  the,  750. 

Rangeley  Lakes,  Trout-fishing  in  the,  351. 

Rani^i/rr  Gra;nlandiciis.     See  C!aribou. 

Reel,  On  the  Invention  of  the,  603. 

Reindeer.     See  Caribou. 

Robinson,  Rowland  f^..  Paper  by. 

Fox-Hunting  in  New  England,  79. 
Rock  Fish.     See  Bass,  Striped. 
Rods,  383,385,  406,  410,  506,  523,  597. 


Sage  Hen.     See  (Irouse. 
Salmon,  368,  401,  569,  571. 
Salmon  Rivers,  401,  405,  511,  513. 
Salmo  Fontinalis.     See  Trout. 
S(i/mo  Sa/ar.     See  Salmon. 
Schwatka,  Frederick,  Paper  by. 

A  Musk-'Ox  liunt,  313. 
Sea  Trout,  434,  507. 
Seymour,  Edward,  Paper  by. 

Trout-fishing  in  the  Rangeley  Lakes,  351. 
Sheep,  Wild,  263,  280. 
Shot.     See  Shot-Gun. 
Shot-Gun,  The,  765. 
Skittering,  394. 
Snipe,  620,  695. 
Striped  Bass,  449. 

Taxidermy,  833. 
Terrapin,  745. 
Tetraonidic.     See  (Irouse. 
Thompson,  Maurice,  Pa|)ers  by. 

In  the  the  Haunts  of  Bream  and  Bass 
(Poem),  396. 

Bow-shooting,  854. 
Thousand  Islands,  .\mong  the,  545,  573. 
Thymallns  tricolor.     See  (Irayling. 
Tileston,  William  M.,  Paper  liy. 

Some  American  Sporting  Dogs,  615. 
Traps,  61.  644. 
Trolling,  393,  594. 
Trout,  181,  351,  451,  462,  494,  554,  559, 

565,  807,  827. 
Trout,  Weight  and  Length  of,  605. 
Trout,  A  Fight  with  a,  827. 
Trout,  Sea,  507. 
Turkey-shooting,  Wild,  760,  866. 

Ursiis  Amcricaniis.     See  Bear. 

Vtilpes  Fiilvtis.     See  ¥<d\. 

Virginia  Deer,   130,  151,  209,  243,  259. 

Wallace,  Lew,  Paper  by. 

A  Ikifialo  Hunt  in  N.  Mexico,  loi. 
Ward,  Charles  C,  Papers  by. 

The  Black  Bear,  49. 

Moose-hunting,   154. 

Caribou-hunting,  208. 

Porpoise-shooting,  473. 
Warner,  Charles  Dudley,  Papers  by. 

How  I  killed  a  Bear,  820. 

A  Fight  with  a  Trout,  827. 
Whitehead,  Charles  F;.,  Pajier  by. 

North  American  Grouse,  639. 
Wilkinson,  A.  G.,  Paper  by. 

Salmon-fishing,  401. 
Woodcock,  620,  685. 

Zimmerman,  Charles  .\.,  Paper  by. 
F"ield  Sports  in  Minnesota,  705. 


"-  S»3- 

ut. 

by. 


2leyLakes,3Si. 


s  by. 

earn  and  Bass 


t'»^-'.  54S>  573- 
ayhng. 
•  by. 
Dogs,  615. 


*94,  554,  559, 
of,  605. 

,  866. 
ar. 

>9,  243'  259- 
exico,  loi. 


ipers  by. 

'■V 
ler  by. 

639- 


iper  by. 
1,  705- 


i 


